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by SpangleBangle



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Aromantic Characters, Asexual Characters, Bisexual/Pansexual Characters, Canon Characters of Color, Disabled Characters, English Thomas, Everyone is LGBTQ, Everyone's on YouTube, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Mix of book and film details, Multi, Non-Romantic Intimacy, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Queer Characters of Color, Queer Themes, Slow Build, Trans Characters, Welsh Newt, Work In Progress, Youtuber AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-04-01 13:55:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 92,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4022389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpangleBangle/pseuds/SpangleBangle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Thomas takes part in an international exchange program for university, he doesn't expect his roommate to introduce him to his YouTube friends, or that they would soon become his friends too. He gets a behind the scenes look at vlogging, LPs and critique video creators and the ridiculous times they stay up until at night, maybe even gets to cameo here and there. Shameless happiness and friendship in a strange city far from home, maybe even falling in love a little.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bright Lights, Big City & New Friends

**Author's Note:**

> Quick note on updates - This series isn't replacing Women Like Us, I'm going to be getting back to that in a few weeks :) A friend recently got me incredibly obsessed with all The Maze Runner series and I just had to write for it. So I hope you enjoy idiot nerds messing around on social media and taking far too many selfies :)

Based loosely on [this au](http://athosds.tumblr.com/tagged/tmrau) by athosds on tumblr.

* * *

 

Minho rapped out a fast drum beat on the counter top as he waited for his toast to pop. Rat a tat a tat a thunk. Rattatatatataaa thunk smack. The kitchen echoed with the beat of his hands and feet, thrumming out the tempo of the music playing in the next room. Right on beat, the toast popped and he started spreading honey on it in time. Good thing the apartment under his was never occupied. He took the toast through to the living space and plonked down at his desk, leg jiggling as he moused the screen awake again. After a few minute’s browsing and munching, he minimized the window and restored the video editing program he used. He flicked the volume down on his music and got back to work, painstakingly checking the audio and video were synced, editing between segments, playing with effects and whacking the undo and redo buttons more times than was probably healthy for the program. His phone buzzed and he smiled at the message.

_From: Albuquerque_

_Meeting that UK YTer I told you about, SalamanderMonarch, later. You still in? Food’s on me._

He quickly thumbed out a reply.

_To: Albuquerque_

_Sure thing, text me the time. With a bit of notice._

Alby texted back a smiley face and Minho pushed his phone away, focussing again on editing the video. He wanted to get it compressing and uploading while he was out meeting Alby’s transatlantic friend, but he wasn’t quite happy with the pacing of the cuts. He slurped cold coffee as he tried to find a better way to edit it.

Time slipped by and soon his phone pinged again.

_From: Albuquerque_

_Newt says they’re settling in the dorms already, ready to meet now. Get your shoes on :)_ _  
_

Minho turned back to the video absently, sure there was something else he could do, maybe just quickly set it to compress…

_From: Albuquerque_

_One job, Minnie Mouse. You’re late, come on!_

“Woops,” Minho muttered, throwing on a jacket and shoving his feet into shoes as he watched the video slowly compress. Shoving keys and wallet into his pockets, he set it to run in the background and put everything else on standby. “Fuck,” He told the clock, and dashed out.

-x-

The world seemed to spin around Thomas as he gaped. Okay, he was from London, skyscrapers weren’t a big deal, but the streets were so narrow and different and oh god everyone was on the wrong side of the road. He swallowed, feeling as if he were floating and falling all at once as he craned his head back to the sky, like jumping in a fast lift. He clutched his bag strap tightly and made sure his suitcase was rolling smoothly as he followed the pack of thirty-odd other UK students following the lady with the umbrella stamped with university logos. The boy at the back with long blonde hair plaited down between his shoulders looked back for him.

“Come on Tommy, don’t get left behind,” The boy smiled, waiting for him, a bit of Cardiff bleeding into his voice like a fresh breeze.

Thomas picked up his feet and concentrated on staying with the group. Time enough for sightseeing later. Newt, the longhaired boy, still outpaced him despite a limp. His whole body felt sluggish and shocked, a bit overwhelmed by the reality of being somewhere that looked so similar and jarringly different to home all at the same time. They caught up to the main pack just outside the main campus doors. The throng of students passing in and out of the doors looked at the intimidated-seeming group curiously at first, then nodded and commented knowingly to each other. A few gave friendly or flirtatious smiles and waves.

Thomas felt abruptly underdressed in his comfy old jeans and hoodie, great for travelling on long flights but not so great for first impressions. As the lady handed out maps, Thomas eyed Newt’s hair. It looked amazing. He tried to sort his own out but had to give up without a mirror. He took his map with a nod and studied it, smiling tightly at the red circle drawn around the international dorms. The woman cleared her throat to get their attention.

“I’ll be leaving you now in the capable hands of Dr Jansen, our exchange student liaison officer. If you need anything, you go to him. His contact details will be in your information pack. Have a great trip, everybody.” She smiled brightly at them, a lot of perfectly white and straight teeth on show. An older man with thinning hair and an even thinner face stepped forward and gave a sickly-looking smile, even more unnatural after the woman’s toothy grin. Newt caught Thomas’ eye and pursed his lips expressively. Thomas had to look down to stop himself laughing.

Janson was giving a rather lacklustre speech about the campus and the itinerary for their first week. Mostly orientation and tours of the city and campus before classes started properly. He led them around the campus, pointing out the main buildings, cafeteria, local student dorms, library, admin building, and then finally the international dorms.

“Your rooms should be allocated in your packs, though to be frank students rarely keep to those. It’s your choice if you want to swap around, but you’ll be responsible for the state of the room you’ve been allocated at the end of the academic year. You have the evening free to settle in, remember orientation starts tomorrow morning at nine sharp, in the main cafeteria. I’d advise you not to wander into the city on your own unless you’re confident you can make your way back alright.” Jansen gave another sickly smile and held the door open for them to find their dorms.

Thomas got out his information pack and checked his room. “241.”

“Same,” Newt said in a surprised voice. “You feel like sharing together?”

“Sure,” Thomas smiled. None of the intake really knew each other, but he and Newt had talked a fair bit in the prep classes and on the plane. He was nice. A bit different from other people, but nice, and he seemed like fun.

“Alright then,” Newt said brightly, hitching his backpack up. “Would you mind if we got the lift?”

“No problem,” Thomas replied, remembering his limp. They found their room and started unpacking, choosing bunks with a coin flip. At one point Newt paused to text someone.

“Hey, Tommy,” He said after a minute. “I’m going out to meet a friend in a bit, do you want to come along?”

“How do you have a friend here already?” Thomas asked over the pile of clothes he was attempting to jam into some drawers.

“The YouTube thing I told you about, remember? We got in touch about a year ago, and he lives not far from campus. We were just going to meet up for dinner, I think he might be bringing a friend. You want to come?”

Thomas hesitated, not sure if it was wise to go into a strange city with a guy he only just met to apparently meet someone else, maybe more people, who neither of them had met before.

Newt grinned and fiddled with his plait, letting it swing over one shoulder. “I promise he’s not a cannibal waiting to wear you as a skinsuit. I’ve skyped with him loads, he’s fine.”

Thomas considered it for a few moments, weighing his nervousness of being in a strange place against the fact he had come here to stretch his boundaries in the first place. “Okay, thanks. It’s not far, is it?”

Newt asked for directions and Thomas changed into something a bit better for first impressions while they waited. A slightly snazzier tee than usual with some newer jeans, he decided on.

“Trust me, Alby’s nice,” Newt was saying, swapping out his own shirt. “He does Let’s Plays and game and film reviews. His channel name is AlDynamite, he’s pretty well-known.”

“ _Oh,_ ” Thomas said, feeling vaguely shocked. “I’ve seen some of his stuff, actually. I don’t think I’m subscribed to him, but I see his videos a lot. You’re friends with him?”

Newt grinned and fussed some more with his hair. “Yeah, over distance. I’m really excited to meet him.”

“Wow.” Thomas looked down at himself, wondering if he should change again.

“He’s just a normal guy, Tommy, chill.”

“Right.”

Newt’s phone pinged. “Aha, directions. Ready to go?”

Thomas checked his pockets for key, map, wallet and phone. “Yep. Lead on.” He hurriedly finger-combed his hair on the way out. As they walked to the nearby pub, Newt and Thomas traded mobile numbers.

“So what’s your channel like?” Thomas asked.

“Oh, mostly socio-political stuff. With science.” Newt paused to consider. “I’ll send you a link later if you want, it’s a bit hard to describe. Like, if I say I go off on rants about gender and patriarchy and medical advancements all the time it doesn’t give a great impression.”

“Sounds interesting,” Thomas said.

Newt grinned at him, pleased. “You’re nice. Oh, I think that’s the place. There’s Alby!” he pointed and Thomas saw a tall young black man waiting outside the pub, obviously waiting for someone. He spotted them too and headed over, grinning. Thomas tried not to feel intimidated by the six feet of easy smiling muscle and internet fame heading towards them.

“Newt!” The young man said, grinning. “It’s great to see you in person!” He held out his arms and they hugged, laughing and exchanging rapid-fire questions and jokes. Thomas tried not to feel too out of place and waited.

Sure enough, Newt soon broke off and turned to him. “Wow, rude, sorry. Thomas, this is my friend Alby. Alby, this is my roommate Thomas.”

Alby held out a hand with a happy smile and Thomas couldn’t help but smile back as he shook. There was something very comfortable about Alby. He seemed able to put people at their ease without even thinking about it.

“Nice to meet you, Thomas. How are you liking LA so far?”

“Same. I haven’t seen much of it yet, but it looks really interesting. I’m looking forward to the tour this week.”

“Nice. Well I’ll be happy to take you and Newt around when you’re free, if you want.”

“Great,” Newt grinned. “And we’ll have to vlog the whole thing.”

Alby laughed quietly. “Let’s head in. I invited Minho but his timekeeping is terrible, he’ll probably be late.” Alby led them to a quiet table while Thomas racked his brains to see if he recalled any other famous YouTubers called Minho.

He couldn’t bring a face to mind and thought that at least it wouldn’t be weird meeting someone he’d only seen on screen before, though Alby had been perfectly nice and down to earth. They settled in with drinks and Thomas was happy to let Newt do most of the talking in a rapid volley back and forth between him and Alby. After a little while Thomas had the distinct impression he was third-wheeling. It wasn’t that they were ignoring him – both made every effort to include him in their conversation – just that it was obvious they knew each other well and had a lot to talk about. He was happy enough sipping his drink and getting used to things, soaking in the atmosphere. It was a little strange sitting there with someone he had watched countless hours of content starring, his LPs or critiques. It was nice to see it wasn’t a persona, either. He seemed very genuine, and was obviously enjoying getting to talk to Newt in person.

“Where is that trashcan?” Alby said after a while, looking around. “You had one job today, Minho. I’ll text him.”

“Is he always late?” Newt asked, smiling. He obviously knew who Alby was referring to.

“Not really,” Alby relented as he tapped out a message. “It’s that he’s off work today, so he doesn’t watch the clock as much. He’s really nice, he’s a good friend,” Alby assured Thomas, who smiled and nodded.

Alby and Newt quickly got side-tracked into a long discussion over a film that had come out recently. Thomas half-listened, mostly watching the bar to see if he could spot this other YouTuber when he walked in. He had the distinct impression he was ignoring what was sure to go into a new AlDynamite video but he was still feeling a bit odd from travelling and being out with strangers, and it was hard to concentrate. As he was vaguely watching, a tall young man hurried into the pub. Thomas had to swallow abruptly. Good lord. He wasn’t sure how that shirt was putting up with the strain of the bulk under it, but it looked amazing. He was tall, broad, muscular and tanned, Asian with short dark hair swept up in the front. He put his hands on his hips as he looked around and Thomas had to take a sip of his drink. He had just about recovered when the man saw him. Their eyes met for a second and Thomas felt his face heating. The man twitched a smile, gave him a quick up and down – _oh my God that just happened_ – before spotting Alby and Newt. He gave a little double take then headed over. Alby noticed where Thomas was looking and turned.

“Finally, what is wrong with you?” He grinned, smacking the other man’s arm jokingly.

“I was right in the middle of something,” the muscular guy said with a quick grin, sitting next to Alby and opposite Thomas.

Alby made a show of rolling his eyes. “This pile of clunk is my friend Minho, if you hadn’t guessed. Minho, this is SalamanderMonarch, Newt, and his roomie Thomas.”

“Nice to meet you,” Minho smiled easily, shaking their hands. Thomas hoped his face wasn’t red; at least Minho was having just as much trouble meeting his eyes after that little checking-you-out moment they had shared.

“So what were you in the middle of? I texted you like, twice.” Alby asked.

“I was editing, Alby, no need to bring the drama,” Minho replied, still smiling. “I’m here now. And my next video should be up on schedule despite your insistence on dragging me out here.”

Alby solemnly clapped for a few moments while Minho put on a noble face. Thomas watched them tease each other curiously; he wasn’t sure what to make of Minho at first, but he thought he liked his particular branch of humour.

“What sort of videos do you make?” Thomas asked, fiddling with his straw. After a moment he blanched, thinking he might have insulted him.

Minho just kept on smiling. “A mix of LPs and sketch vlogs, mostly. Some other stuff on the side. Are you a YouTuber too?”

It was politely asked but Thomas felt his chest tighten a bit. “Ah, no. Like, I obviously watch YouTube stuff, I’ve seen quite a few of Alby’s videos. But no, I’m not a creator.”

“Oh, cool.” Minho glanced at Alby and Newt, who were engrossed again with their conversation. Neither appeared to be paying Minho or Thomas any attention. Minho raised an eyebrow a bit at his friend, who didn’t notice, before turning back to Thomas. “So what’re you here to study then?”

“Psychology,” Thomas replied, sipping his drink. “Do you really wanna know? ‘Cause I can kinda rattle on about it for ages if I get going, fair warning.”

Minho watched him for a moment, grin stretching. Thomas felt himself smiling back as he waited for a response. “Yeah, I do. It would make a change from endless YouTube talk at any rate. I’ll just get a drink. You want anything?” He stood and lightly, casually placed his hand on Thomas’ wrist.

“I’m good for now, thanks,” Thomas managed, feeling blood rush to his head. Good lord. Calm down, brain. Minho smiled and headed off to the bar. When he came back he planted his elbows on the table and his chin in his hands, levelling his grinning attention squarely on Thomas.

“Talk brains to me.”

It was close to an hour later when Newt and Alby emerged from their film-critique bubble. Alby covered his mouth to muffle a laugh – Minho was in the same position, chin on hands and face alive with interest as he listened to Thomas, who was a bit flushed and was gesturing as he explained his points with a serious but enthusiastic expression, eyes bright in the darkening pub. Minho interjected every so often with questions or comments, to which Thomas eagerly replied. Exchanging a look with Newt, Alby slowly retrieved his phone and positioned it. He disabled the flash and quickly took a picture. The other two didn’t notice. Stifling giggles, they conferred in whispers as to the caption before Alby tweeted it. They eventually settled on ‘@shuckkeeper being a tart to new friend’. They shared a stealthy hi-five and assumed equally insincere innocent expressions.

Eventually the lack of background conversation noise made Thomas stumble in his explanation and he glanced to see both Newt and Alby watching them, looking incredibly amused. His jaw clicked shut and Minho started laughing.

“You weirdos,” He said, flicking Alby’s shoulder.

“Don’t let us stop you,” Newt said sweetly, raising eyebrows at Thomas who cleared his throat. In the excitement of their conversation he’d forgotten to be intimidated by this incredibly aesthetically pleasing stranger with a huge smile, had lost track of things as he talked.

“Oi,” Minho laughed, checking his phone. “You absolute _creep_ , Alby, wow.” He showed it to Thomas who had to laugh – it was such a strange shot and taken at the perfect wrong moment, they both looked a little odd. He noticed Minho ‘liked’ it despite his protests. “Did I really look like that?”

“I didn’t notice,” Thomas said quietly.

Minho flashed him a quick, infectious grin. “Well after all that talking I’m definitely getting you another drink,” Minho said, patting his back as he went to the bar again.

Alby shook his head fondly. “He’s such a dork.”

Thomas coughed, finished his drink and moved the conversation onto a film that all of them had seen, so they could all discuss it together. Minho eased back into his seat and slid a drink across to Thomas, who thanked him with a nod. As the evening moved on, Thomas forgot that he was almost alone in a strange city and country. He could enjoy the lively, fun debates and ridiculous arguments and the sight of Alby and Minho competing for who could balance the most spoons on their face (Alby won six to five), the incident immediately tweeted. At some point Alby called for a selfie which led to a lot of squashing together but for once Thomas didn’t mind. Of course that called for tagging everyone, so they all exchanged various handles; Thomas gave out his Instagram as he didn’t have twitter and swapped his number with Alby and Minho, which would have felt weird and surreal if they hadn’t spent over an hour seriously debating the merits of Power Rangers versus TMNT.

“Oh my God,” Alby said at some time around midnight. “You guys have orientation tomorrow. And you’ll be jetlagged as hell. Shit.”

“Wow, we’re gonna get you into bad habits already,” Minho grinned. “Okay, let’s shepherd the little babies home.”

“Hey,” Thomas said, standing up by Minho. Only an inch or two shorter. “Little, excuse me.”

“I stand corrected,” Minho laughed, then casually stretched his shoulders, flexing under his shirt.

“…Okay, I have nothing to say to that,” Thomas said after a moment. Minho grinned smugly and lightly nudged his side.

Alby cleared his throat meaningfully and nodded towards the door. They headed out, chatting as the residents led the way back to campus. They separated at the main doors, Alby and Minho heading off with arms around each other’s shoulders. Just before they were out of earshot, Alby turned back around.

“Welcome to LA!”

They waved and watched them walk away. Newt and Thomas turned to each other.

“Wild,” Newt said, eyes bright.

“Yeah. Thanks for inviting me.”

“No problem. See, I told you YouTube people can be nice.”

“I never doubted that. Hey, send me links to yours and Minho’s channels before we crash, yeah?”

“Sure,” Newt grinned. He laid his arm around Thomas’ shoulders affectionately as they walked.

When they got into their room and started getting ready for bed, Thomas checked his skype.

_From: Mum_

_How did the first day go? Did you meet any new friends?_

Thomas smiled and started typing a reply.


	2. A Day In The Life & Awkward Newts ft. Homesickness

Thomas’ first week in LA passed in a blur of jetlag, rapid information and frantically trying to learn the geography of the city and campus. In his free time he made sure to check out his new friends’ – acquaintances? – channels so he wouldn’t feel so ignorant the next time they hopefully met. He hoped he’d made a good impression on Alby and Minho; they seemed really nice, and as Newt definitely wanted to be ‘real life’ friends with them, Thomas quietly hoped he could be friends with them too.

He’d started making friends with people on his course too. There was a group of three people he hoped he could befriend in particular. In his first proper lecture, he and the two other UK transfer students doing psychology had been made to stand at the front and say hi. That had been pretty mortifying, like being back in school. The lecturer had meant well though, he supposed. Even if it had felt a bit othering. He hadn’t been sure where to sit, but a girl with long dark hair near the front had smiled, cleared her stuff off the space next to her and patted the desk. He’d sat with her gratefully and she introduced herself in a whisper as Teresa, and her two friends sitting on her other side as Aris and Rachel. In breaks they’d chatted, started getting to know each other, and got lunch and coffee together. He was quietly hopeful they would become good friends, or at least a good study group. They’d all seemed eager to learn and do well, and had been really nice. Some of the people in class had been a bit rude, asking him to say things to gasp over his “accent” and asking loads of questions about London and “other Brits”. It had got a bit wearing. Luckily, Teresa, Aris and Rachel had dismissed it as childish and when they asked questions, it seemed to be a genuine attempt to get to know him.

He and Newt were getting along well, so far no fights or quarrels about space. It had been really interesting to watch Newt film a new vlog about his first week; Thomas had kept quiet and still at his desk on the other side of the room and watched the whole process with fascination. Newt had said it was fine for him to sit in, he didn’t feel self-conscious, and it had been fun to watch him stumble over his semi-script, doing multiple takes without pause and adjusting the camera. At the end Newt had grinned and said, “And this is my roomie Thomas! Say hi, Tommy.” And gestured for him to sit by him. Thomas had obeyed, sitting with him and waving at the camera.

“Hi. I’m Thomas.”

“He’s cool. And be sure to check out his Instagram, it’s really good,” Newt had grinned, making a box gesture with his hands. He’d explained later it was so he could map the annotation in the video.

“You looked at my Instagram?” Thomas had asked, forgetting about the camera.

“Yeah, I really liked it,” Newt replied, making Thomas grin happily. Watching the finished video later, he thought he looked like a dork, but it had been fun and Newt was pretty chill to be around. He’d spent his evening fairly marathoning Newt, Alby and Minho’s most recent and most popular videos to catch up on things.

On the Saturday, they were both relaxing in their room, reading and generally messing about on their laptops, drinking takeout coffee. Thomas had just noticed the addition of three followers to his Instagram and was flicking through their accounts, trying not to feel like he was stalking Newt, Alby and Minho as he did so. Then both his and Newt’s phones dinged simultaneously.

“Alby wants to meet up,” Newt said, and Thomas nodded as he read the same message.

Another ping, just to Thomas.

_From: Minho_

_Are you coming along? We’ll show you the sights properly :)_ _  
_

“Who’s that from?” Newt asked, watching.

“Minho,” Thomas said, reading the message over again. “Asking if I’m coming along too.”

“That’s nice of him,” Newt said, closing his laptop and getting his shoes. “Are you?”

“Yeah, should be fun.” He texted a quick reply to Minho, who replied with an excited face emoticon, as he got ready. They met up downtown and to Thomas’ relief, the friendliness the other two extended to him wasn’t just limited to meeting him unexpectedly in a pub and being nice about it – they both seemed happy to see him again and to get to know him better.

“Do you mind if I vlog some stuff?” Minho asked them both, getting out his camera. “I thought we could do a ‘showing Newt and Thomas LA’ sort of ‘trying new things’ video, if that’s cool with you both? This isn’t an ambush, by the way, I promise, I just thought it would be fun to film. If that’s not okay it’s perfectly cool, no pressure.”

Newt agreed enthusiastically and Thomas said it would be fine, a bit unsure what to do with himself.

Minho had been watching him. “Seriously dude, it’s fine if you don’t want to be on film. I’ll make sure you’re not in shot if you don’t want.” He said quietly as Newt and Alby traded ideas for where they could go.

Thomas smiled and shook his head. “No, it’s okay. I’ve not been videoed before, that’s it really. Thank you though.”

“No problem,” Minho replied, patting his shoulder. “Just be yourself, and if you want I’ll show you the footage before I post anything so you can say if you’re still okay with it.”

Thomas was touched. “That’s really considerate, thanks.”

“It’s cool,” Minho said easily, smiling as he fiddled with his camera. “I have a thing about non-consensual filming. It really ticks me off when people just whip out a camera and upload without asking. And especially as you don’t know me very well…” He tailed off with a shrug.

Thomas considered him for a moment, then hesitantly said, “Good that.”

Minho looked up abruptly, grinning. “You watched some of my videos?”

“Yeah, I really like them. I’m trying to catch up on your most recent series.”

Minho grinned. “Aw. Thanks, man. Hey Newt, you’ve got a great roomie. I saw your vlog, by the way. Nice cameo,” He commented to Thomas, who rubbed the back of his neck. Minho nudged him lightly, just a shoulder touch, and Thomas smiled. He nudged him back after a minute and Minho laughed. It was kind of hard to be seriously intimidated by someone who had filmed and uploaded a video of themselves shrieking and falling off his chair from a game jumpscare. “Cool, I’ll just film the intro if you guys are ready.”

He stepped apart, held the camera at arm’s length and grinned. “Hey guys, it’s Minho. Thought I’d film a kind of Day in the Life style thing as me and a friend show some other friends around LA. Say hi everyone,” He turned the camera and they all waved and said hello. “This is SalamanderMonarch, check him out, his roomie Thomas who has a great Instagram by the way at GreenbeenSnappea, and oh wow, some random guy who wandered into shot, rude,” Minho said, directing the camera at each of them and panning quickly away from Alby, who laughed. He flipped the camera back around to himself and stood by Newt and Thomas, angling to get them all in shot. Newt stuck out his tongue and Thomas smiled. “So, these two Limey gits have just been in LA a week and it’s about time they saw the sights properly.”

“Let’s go!” Newt laughed, clearly more at ease being filmed.

“Right, where to first, Alby?”

“Uhh, Downtown shops?”

“Let’s go!” Minho said and started jogging away, filming back to show them all struggling to run after him as he laughed. After a minute he stopped and ended the recording, still laughing. “Nice one, let’s go then.”

Alby and Minho took them around as many of the local sights as they could, making a list of other places to go another day, like a real Hollywood and Disneyland tour, amusement parks, and the beach. Soon Thomas got used to the camera. At one point, when they stopped for a break to rest their feet and arms and Newt’s leg from their shopping, he was trying to get a good photo angle on his coffee when he noticed Minho semi-stealthily filming him.

“What?” He grinned shyly, eyes flicking between Minho and the camera.

“Nothing, I’m just surrounded by hipsters,” Minho replied, panning the camera and he realised Newt and Alby had been doing exactly the same thing with their drinks. He laughed, took the photo and without even thinking about it slid around to sit by Minho, holding up his phone. Minho laughed and pulled a face for the selfie.

“Hey hey, selfie time,” Alby said, spotting them, and he and Newt crowded in, cameras everywhere. Thomas’ stomach was sore from laughing by the time they’d all somehow managed to get some pictures taken, selected, tagged and uploaded. They eventually finished their coffee and headed off to the next item on the agenda. As they walked, Minho went beside Thomas and turned his camera back on.

“So, Thomas, how are you enjoying LA so far?” He smiled, flipping the view screen so Thomas could see how the footage was being recorded.

He grinned happily, feeling light and a bit hyperalert from excitement. “I really like it so far, it’s so different from home. I’ve never been outside the UK before, it’s weird seeing everything so different and similar. LA is really cool, and there’s so much to see. Nice people, too,” He added, grinning at Minho, who laughed.

“Got any souvenirs?”

“Yep,” Thomas tugged on his bag strap. “Got some postcards for my family and a couple of gifts, some stuff for me.”

“Nice.”

“How are you enjoying showing us around?” Thomas asked.

Minho grinned and casually draped his arm around Thomas’ shoulders, not close enough to crowd him. “It’s fun, you hardly go to see the famous places in your hometown ‘cause it’s so touristy, you know? So thanks for giving me an excuse.”

“Yeah, that’s why I moved to LA, just to give you an excuse to be a tourist,” Thomas laughed, lightly settling his arm around Minho’s waist, not sure if it was the right thing to do but it made Minho laugh. He seemed like a fairly touchy feely sort of person.

“It’s very appreciated,” Minho said, and stopped the recording, laughing quietly to himself. He didn’t move away and they walked for a minute with arms around each other. The moment stretched and Thomas started to get uncomfortable, and removed his arm.

“Oh, sorry dude,” Minho said, letting him go. “I’m a bit of a hugger, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Thomas said after a minute, fiddling with his shirt. “I’m not so much, but you didn’t know. It’s cool.”

Minho hesitated, looking serious. “Have I made you really uncomfortable?”

“No, it’s okay,” Thomas reassured him. He smiled up at the vlogger. “It’s mostly around strangers. Friends and people I already know, it’s not so much of a problem with them.”

Minho grinned down at his feet, then looked almost coyly across at Thomas. “Good that. I know we don’t know each other very well, but I’d really like to be friends, if you know. That would be nice.”

_Oh my god. He’s a dork on and off camera. Oh my god._ “Yeah, I’d like that,” Thomas said out loud, patting Minho on the back.

Minho beamed and turned around as he walked, calling out to Alby, “New friend!”

Alby laughed and covered his face. “Why am _I_ friends with you?” He called back. Minho gave him a cheery thumbs-up and turned back around to walk with Thomas. They spent the rest of the day much the same, going to as many local sights as they could cram in without wearing out their feet, Minho filming most of it. Thomas felt giddy, feeling like he was really making friends. Alby and Minho, and even Newt, were recognised by subscribers an amusing number of times, pausing every so often to meet them and take selfies. Thomas watched, safe in anonymity, amused by all the reactions their fans had to them. As they were discussing getting dinner, Minho checked his watch.

“Oh damn, I’d better get going, I have a class to teach this evening and I need to get ready. It was really great spending the day with you guys,” He grinned. They filmed a quick goodbye for the video and waved him off as he ran for a bus about to pull out of its stop. The remaining three got a quick dinner together before separating.

When they got back to their dorms, Thomas collapsed on his bed with a groan, legs and shoulders sore. Newt laughed weakly from the same position on his bed.

“Hey, sorry if I was ignoring you while we were out,” Newt said, turning to look at him. “I guess actually hanging out with Alby for real kinda gives me tunnel vision.”

“It’s okay, I get it,” Thomas assured him. “He’s really nice. Besides, I like Minho, we get along pretty well, at least so far.” He shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.”

Newt smiled and tossed him a packet of candy in thanks. “Yeah, he’s super friendly. Cool. I’m glad you’re making friends too.”

They lay for a little whole before resuming their previous occupations. Looking up from his book, Thomas noticed Newt fiddling with his hair, apparently watching a style video. He wrestled with words for a minute before sighing.

“Newt, can I ask you something?”

“Hm?” Newt looked up and smiled patiently. “It’s about the hair, isn’t it.”

“Uh. Don’t get me wrong, it looks really good and it’s your business completely.” Thomas held up his hands. “You don’t have to explain anything. It looks great.”

“It’s okay, I mean it took you a week to ask. That’s pretty cool,” Newt said with a slightly stiff smile.

“Sorry, Newt, you don’t have to say anything.”

“I don’t mind. I get a bit tired of explaining myself to strangers, that’s all. Especially strangers on the street.” Newt rolled his eyes. “I made a video about it a while ago. It’s kind of a statement? Mostly I just like how it looks. It’s pretty rad to be able to do stuff with it. I guess it’s a bit political, too. Gender roles and expectations and all that crap. And I like how it looks on me.” He added, watching Thomas’ reaction carefully, a bit defensive.

Thomas smiled. “That’s really great. Seriously, Newt, that’s wonderful. It’s really cool. I don’t know if I’d be confident enough to wear that sort of style, or pull it off half as well.”

Newt looked at him carefully for a minute, apparently waiting for the other shoe to drop. Thomas just kept smiling, trying to exude a supportive and relaxed vibe. “Thanks, Tommy.”

“It’s just being open minded.” He hesitated again. “Am I using the right pronouns for you?”

Newt looked pleasantly delighted. “Mmhmm, ‘he, him and his’ are right. I identify as a male, but present lots of different ways. Thanks for asking, that’s awesome.” This time _he_ paused, choosing his words carefully.

Thomas waited with eyebrows raised, heart thumping a bit.

Newt scratched the back of his neck. “This is probably going to sound jerky and weird, and by all means tell me to piss off, but, uh. Are you, uh, LGBT? It’s just, usually most people who ask about pronouns are, that I’ve met, anyway…”

Thomas waved his hand. “I get it. Uh, yeah, I am. Ace.” He rubbed a hand through his hair.

Newt beamed. “Thanks for telling me, nice. I’m gay, so. Cool. Nice.”

They nodded awkwardly to each other for a moment. “You wanna split these?” Thomas asked at length, offering the candy. “They’re a bit too sickly for me.”

They traded sweets back and forth while Thomas finished his chapter, wrote out his postcards and browsed through his Instagram, smiling at the pictures he’d posted earlier. He noticed the other three had all tweeted or liked them as well.

“Hey, can you help me with this?” Newt said from in front of the mirror, both hands scrunched up holding hair sections in a precise pattern. “Can you tell me what the next step is? I can’t scroll like this.”

Thomas helped him out, reading out the instructions and helping with some of the more intricate steps. The result was amazing – an intricate crown weaving around Newt’s head, held invisibly in place by several small pins and clear elastic bands.

“Wow.”

“Thanks, Tommy,” Newt smiled in satisfaction. “I think I’ll do my next video like this.”

“It’s a good look,” Thomas agreed. He helped Newt take reference photos so he could recreate it again later.

“Hey, um,” Newt said a bit later. “Do you want to come along to a LGBT society meeting this week? It’s just an hour or two, on campus, and you don’t have to pay membership unless you go more than three times. Could meet some people.”

“Yeah, okay,” Thomas agreed slowly. “Okay. I’ll come to the first one, see what it’s like.”

Newt bumped his hip with a smile. “Great. It’s on Tuesday, at six. I can meet you after your lecture, I noticed you’ve got an evening one on your timetable that day.” He nodded to the slip of paper blutacked above Thomas’ desk. Thomas agreed, thinking back to his experiences of his local LGBT organisation. He’d met some great friends, an ex or two, and some right douchebags. He guessed it would be much the same at this one. Hopefully with less unsettling middle aged men trying to pick up guys Thomas’ age. And hopefully without too many people who had no idea LGBTQ+ was more than a gay dating service in seedy bars. Or that some people had no wish or inclination for sex or romance.

He noticed Newt watching him for an answer and pulled himself back to the present. He nodded and smiled briefly. “Sure.”

His phone pinged, a message from his mum asking if it was a good time to skype. He relayed this to Newt.

“Oh, no problem, I’ll head out to the library for a bit, start on some of my reading. No, it’s no problem, just text me when you’re done and I’ll head back.” Newt smiled, shoving some books in a bag and throwing on a jacket and shoes. “Have a nice chat.”

Thomas waved him off, grateful for privacy. Homesickness had been gnawing at him in his quieter moments, and he appreciated being given some time with his family. He was having a great time, but he hadn’t been away from home for more than a few weeks before, and those had all been on holidays in the UK, where he wasn’t _really_ too far from home, a long train journey at the most. He was over the sea in a whole other country, learning under a completely different educational system with different currency and different road systems, for Christ’s sake. He was coping pretty well so far, but he missed being able to walk in the kitchen and have tea with his mum, or drop into Chuck’s room and play Mario Kart for hours. And it would be at least another month before he could take a trip back home.

He set up his computer on the desk, made sure what was visible of the room was tidy, that his hair was neat, and replied that he was on skype and ready for a call. He still jumped when the notification flashed up.

“Hi mum,” He beamed as the video link unfuzzed.

“Hi there sweetie!” She replied, resting her cheek on her palm and smiling back at him. It looked really late, and she was in her pyjamas. The kitchen was lit but everything else was dark; he could see moonlight in the living room behind the kitchen.

“Oh my god, mum, what’s the time difference?” He asked.

She shrugged. “It’s just gone one AM. Don’t worry, I wasn’t asleep anyway, and I’m on the afternoon shift later anyway.”

He put his head in his hands for a minute, feeling awful. “We have to work out a time chart so you don’t have to stay up all night for a chat,” He said firmly.

She smiled and touched the screen fondly. “I miss you, sweetie.”

A lump formed abruptly in his throat. “I miss you too. And Chuck. I guess he’s asleep?”

“Mmhmm. He wanted to chat too but school was really tiring for him this week, he fell asleep on the couch.”

“Poor kid. What’s been going on?”

She smiled warmly. “Normal first week back at school stuff. Meeting new teachers, seeing his friends again. I guess you’d know all about that, huh? So really tell me about it, how’s it going?” She frowned in concern. “Are you making friends? Is the city okay?”

He smiled and happily filled her in, commenting there wouldn’t be anything new in the postcards. For over an hour they chatted, swapping news. She was a little concerned about him hanging out with “strange boys from the internet” but seemed reassured when he said his roommate knew them beforehand, and they were really nice. She advised him to be careful but otherwise to enjoy himself. When she started yawning uncontrollably Thomas put on a smile.

“Go to bed, mum, I’m alright. Really, I’m doing just great. I’ll message you some time next week for another chat, okay? Hopefully not at a ridiculous hour for either of us.”

She laughed and sighed. “You’re right. Make sure you eat right, stay safe, study hard, make friends.”

“Of course, mum.”

“Have a great time. I love you, sweetie.” She said, waving her fingers as her eyes teared up.

His own eyes were stinging. “I love you too, mum. Talk to you later.”

She kissed her fingertips and lightly pressed them to the screen just before she ended the call.

About half an hour later Thomas uncurled from around his duvet, wiped his eyes and texted Newt he could come back. Feeling really tired and wrung out, and more than a little homesick, he changed into a shirt and shorts and got into bed, pulling the duvet around him and turning to face the wall.

Newt arrived shortly after, pausing and stepping extra quietly in case Thomas was asleep. He left something on Thomas’ desk, changed, removed the prosthetic attached to his knee and got into bed as well. He flicked off the lights, the backlight from his phone lending a blue tint to everything. Thomas rolled over and peered at his desk; Newt had left him a chocolate bar. It looked like a UK brand, too.

Newt glanced over and saw him looking at it. He gave Thomas an understanding smile and Thomas thanked him in a whisper before rolling onto his back, falling quickly asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I've never been to LA why did I decide to base this there, please be gentle]


	3. Slumber Party

The next morning they spent chewing through their recommended reading, trying to judge who had it worse between psychology and medical engineering. They came to the conclusion it was a draw, with both of them already loaded down with huge textbooks from the library and enormous chapters on anatomy, biochemistry and other fun things. After a few hours of that, Newt messaged his family to see if they were free for a chat. Remembering how considerate Newt had been of him the previous night, Thomas arranged to meet up with Teresa, Aris and Rachel to give Newt some privacy. As he was leaving, a barrage of rapid Welsh-accented questions and exclamations erupted from Newt’s computer, making Thomas smile as he quietly closed the door.

He met up with his hopefully soon-to-be-friends in a library study room. Aris bought them all coffee and they sat in companionable semi-quiet, reading through their textbooks. Occasionally someone brought up something they were confused by, and they did their best to hash out the meaning and teach each other, sometimes devolving into pleasant chatting before someone brought things back on track. Thomas felt quiet contentment settle around him despite the half-present headache. At some point Newt texted to say he could come back to the room, and Thomas replied with a picture of a pile of his textbooks and spent coffee cups, saying he’d stay in the library a bit longer. He swapped numbers with the other three, and they all took pictures. Thomas was particularly flattered when Teresa asked for a selfie, her arm around his shoulders and her hair brushing against his face. He thought he looked red in the photo but she didn’t comment, just used it as his profile picture on her phone. After a couple of hours Rachel announced her brain was going to mush and they agreed it was time to stop before they couldn’t take any more.

They hung out for a while in the courtyard, comparing stories of home. Teresa, Aris and Rachel weren’t local to LA, but had all come up from school together from a small town upstate. They laughed as he complained about the heat, but sympathised when he explained typical London weather to them. They all crowded in for a group picture and Thomas posted it, captioned ‘other Psych nerds’, tagged with their handles. He smiled as he saw Newt, Alby and Minho all ‘liked’ it soon after he posted it. The afternoon rushed by as they sat and talked and got to know each other better, throwing grass and sharing stupid jokes.

At about five Thomas got a text.

_From: Minho_

_Hey Thomas, having a pizza party later, Alby and Newt are coming. Want to come too? I can show you the footage so far as well :)_

Thomas smiled down at his phone, earning curious looks from Theresa and Aris; Rachel was busy making a daisy chain.

_To: Minho_

_Sure thing, do I need to bring food?_

_From: Minho_

_Nah, there’s a shop by my apmt, we’ll go pick up food as a group. C u around 5.30/6?_

_To: Minho_

_You bet :)_

_From: Minho_

_:D_

He then sent another text with his address and Thomas slipped his phone back in his pocket.

“You okay?” Teresa asked with a smile. “Message from home?”

“No, a friend,” He smiled. “I have plans.”

This earned a few ‘ooh’s and a daisy or two being thrown his way.

“A friend aside from us?” Aris asked in mock-outrage. He couldn’t hold it for more than a moment before grinning.

“Yeah, a friend of my roommate’s. He’s having a bit of a party, invited me along. I’d better get going, actually.” Thomas replied, checking the time.

“Have fun,” Teresa said, waving him off.

He waved back to them as he headed back to his room to change his clothes, finding Newt along the way.

“Yep, just give me a minute,” Newt replied when Thomas asked if he was heading out soon. He sat down and flicked through a book while Newt checked and adjusted the fit of his prosthetic and shoes. “You haven’t asked me about this yet,” Newt commented as he worked.

Thomas glanced up. “It’s your business and your leg. And if you hadn’t noticed, I’m pretty careful about boundaries.”

Newt smiled as he rolled down his trouser leg. “Mmhmm. Anyway, let’s go then.”

“Does it seem odd to you that we’re hanging out so much with Alby and Minho?” Thomas asked as they walked through town, Newt checking the map every so often.  “Like, we’ve only been here a week. Does it seem weird to you?”

“Not really,” Newt shrugged. “I’ve met up with other UK YouTubers before, it’s pretty common. I mean, it’s exciting to hang out with people whose videos you’ve seen a lot of, and of course it’s not like being a friend close-by or a real substitute for knowing someone, but it’s a pretty big look at what someone shares of their life, you know?” Thomas shrugged when Newt looked at him. “And me and Alby have been following each other’s videos for a long time now, and chatting on skype and stuff. So for us, hanging out in person feels pretty natural? And Minho’s a good friend of Alby’s, and you’re a friend of mine. It doesn’t seem weird to me.”

Thomas thought about it for a while, keeping track of their route absently.

“Does it really seem weird to you?” Newt asked, stopping to look at him properly.

“I dunno. Maybe a bit unusual.” Thomas shrugged again. “I guess it’s not how I’m used to making friends.”

Newt lightly gripped Thomas’ arm. “If you’re really not comfortable it’s fine, you don’t have to do anything.”

“It’s okay, I like them and I like hanging out with them,” Thomas replied, lightly patting Newt’s hand. “I just… I dunno. It seemed weird all of a sudden. Like, why would they want to hang out with me. You’re Alby’s friend, that makes sense. I’m just tagging along.”

“Hey, hey,” Newt said, frowning in concern. “Don’t be like that, Thomas. Come on. Okay, maybe you tagged along the first time. But Alby and Minho both like you because you’re fun to be around, and you’re a great guy. They’re not being polite. They genuinely want to be friends with you. Okay?”

Thomas chewed his lip. “Okay.”

“You’ll see, don’t worry about it,” Newt assured him with a confident smile. “Come on, it’s getting on for six. You’ll see.”

Thomas followed after him, finding it difficult to shake the feeling he was intruding and not sure where it came from.

The door to Minho’s apartment swung open abruptly on knocking. “Hey!” He beamed at them. “Come on in, come in!” He patted each of their backs as they slipped through the door and the knot of tension in Thomas’ stomach stared to unravel. He shooed them through the corridor into a large open-plan kitchenette-living-room-study area, the kitchen partially blocked off by a countertop table.

“Hey,” Alby called from the sofa, concentrating on what looked like a speedrun of something, half-turning his head but not looking away from the screen. Thomas looked around, quietly impressed by the space. Posters and collectibles and games were everywhere, a mix of bands, old cartography prints and merchandise. He had plants on the windowsills and bookshelves around the walls and it all looked… organised, neat, comfortable. _House goals,_ Thomas thought with a smile.

“Hey,” Minho said, leaning against the back of the sofa and smiling at him as Newt joined Alby in front of the console, offering tips.

“Hey,” Thomas smiled back. “I like your place.”

He beamed again. “Thanks. How are the lectures going?”

“Pretty well,” Thomas said, slipping hands in his pockets. “It’s gonna get tough pretty soon, but I’m enjoying it so far.”

“That’s good. Do you want a drink? I’ve got uh, cola and stuff like that, juice, water, beer…”

“Just a coke, thanks,” Thomas smiled. Minho grinned, patted his shoulder and went off to get it. Newt gestured to Thomas over the back of the sofa.

“Sit down Tommy, relax.”

He settled on the sofa on Alby’s other side, who grinned. “Hey, great to see you, Thomas. How’re you doing?”

“I’m good, thanks, lectures are getting interesting. And you?”

“Oh I’m fine, no worries. Aside from this goddamn section, I can’t get the timing right,” He sourly as a Game Over screen flashed up. “Any ideas?”

Thomas chewed his lip some more, watching him attempt the section again. “Try sliding under that enemy then dashing back for a double attack from the other side?”

There was an intense pause.

“Nice,” Alby crowed as he finally got past the section. “Thanks, Thomas,” He grinned, pausing the game to roughly squeeze Thomas’ shoulder, who felt a foolish grin working its way onto his face.

“Finally,” Minho commented, perching on the sofa arm on Thomas’ other side and handing him a drink with a pat to his shoulder blades. “I thought you’d be stuck on this level for hours still.”

“Oh shut up,” Alby replied good-naturedly, sharing a grin with his friend as he played through the level. “Am I the resident Let’s Player here? No. So shush.”

Minho laughed happily, settling on the sofa arm, leaning a bit against Thomas to keep his balance. Thomas watched the screen with the rest of them, sipping his drink and feeling the tension in his chest and neck slowly ease away as Alby and Minho asked his opinion on levels and made it abundantly clear they wanted him there, with every comment and glance and casual touch. At one point Newt leaned around Alby to catch Thomas’ eye meaningfully. He smiled back at his roommate and relaxed back into the sofa as they waited for Alby to finish the next level before going out to get food.

That involved a lot of cheerful bickering and compromise as everyone had different ideas. Thomas found himself enjoying it rather than being put-off; it was all very friendly and happy, and pretty funny when it came down to it. They all pitched in and helped Minho carry the bags back, though he didn’t seem to need any help with those arms of his. Damn. Alby and Newt piled back onto the sofa, chatting idly as Alby struggled to finish the game. Thomas stood for a minute before going to the kitchen area.

“Need any help?” He asked, hands in his pockets as he watched Minho systematically opening much of the food and turning on his oven, tapping out a rhythm on the counters as he did so.

“Not really,” Minho smiled. “It’s mostly oven and microwave stuff.”

“I could make up that salad,” Thomas offered, not wanting to just watch. Minho had argued in the shop for something at least half-healthy, saying he had work the next day, and they had compromised on a pasta and potato salad.

Minho grinned. “Really? Sure, I’ll get you a board.”

They worked side by side, Thomas alternating between checking the cooking pasta and chopping the vegetables and potatoes while Minho unwrapped pizzas and nachos and dealt with the oven food. After a few minutes of pleasant quiet, Thomas had the rhythm Minho was tapping out stuck in his head and found himself tapping along.

“What’s that from, anyway?” He asked as Minho started whistling.

“Hm? Oh, it’s just a song that’s always on at work, really gets in my head.”

“Where _do_ you work?” Thomas asked. “I don’t think anyone’s actually said. I know obviously you’re on the partnership thing on YouTube.”

Minho tipped some crisps – _chips_ – into a bowl. “I work at the local gym. Mixed floor and class duties. I mostly help around on the floor for the first few hours – making sure the equipment is set up, helping people use it, spotting if someone needs it – then I do aerobics classes in the evenings. I do running classes at the weekends as well, the next course of that starts in a few weeks. Teaching people endurance running, mostly group things, some personal tutoring if they ask for it.” He shrugged, seeing Thomas watching him.

“Wow.”

Minho shrugged again, grinning down at the pizza he was cutting up. “I enjoy it, keeps me fit. And I like the people I work with.”

“That’s pretty impressive.”

“Thanks,” Minho said, lightly bumping his shoulder and clearing his throat. “It’s a bit unusual for a YouTuber, I guess, but it’s fun, and I like being in shape, and helping people with their fitness. And extra income is nothing to sneeze at, either.”

“You don’t need to justify it to me,” Thomas replied, bumping him back and sharing a shy grin. “I think it’s great. I do running most mornings, just for the routine and to keep in shape, but nothing extensive, and I don’t really work out. I think it’s really admirable how committed you are to your health and your job.”

He thought he saw a bit of colour in Minho’s cheeks as he drained the pasta in cold water to cool it, handing the saucepan off to Thomas. “That’s really nice of you to say.”

“I mean it,” Thomas smiled, tipping tomato sauce and feta chunks and olives into the saucepan and stirring it all around. While that was settling, he mixed chopped up potatoes with mayonnaise and chives and other vegetables. There was a definite flush in Minho’s cheeks and he grinned to himself.

“Do you want to come running with me in the mornings?” Minho asked quietly after a few minutes, arranging pizza slices and burritos and nachos on plates.

“For serious?” Thomas asked in surprise. “I’m definitely not on your fitness level,” He added, glancing over Minho’s impressive build.

“Not a problem,” Minho grinned, apparently over being bashful and back to his normal confidence. “I don’t go for serious workouts, just to wake up really. I could help you get fitter if you wanted. Not that you need to, but if you want. And it’s nice to have a running partner.”

Thomas considered it as he spooned the salads into large bowls. “You’re sure it wouldn’t be an imposition? I’d be starting from the campus, wouldn’t it be longer for you? What if you’re late for work?”

“That wouldn’t be a problem,” Minho assured him. “It’s only a ten minute jog to campus from here, I don’t mind getting up a whole ten minutes earlier. And I work at the gym in the afternoon, I do video stuff in the morning. Really, it wouldn’t be a problem. I promise it would be fun.”

They started bringing food into the living room. “Okay,” Thomas agreed. “Sure. Let’s give that a go.”

“What’s that?” Newt asked from the sofa.

“I’m gonna start running in the mornings with Minho,” Thomas replied.

“Good, make sure you wear him out, he’s way too happy in the mornings,” Newt tossed back over his shoulder with a grin. “Disrupting my sleep with your horrible morning attitude.”

“I’ll try,” Minho laughed. “Just so you can be a terrible student and sleep your mornings away.”

Newt gave a thumbs-up over the back of the sofa, focussing again on the screen as Alby tackled a boss stage.

“Alright, food’s up,” Minho announced when it was all laid out. What followed could only be described as a swarm as the four of them descended on the food and drink, eating it standing or taking it to the sofas. Eventually the frenzy slowed and they settled on the sofa, balancing the occasional plate and drink on their knees as they each took a controller.

Hours passed in noisy, elated competition as they played various multiplayers and tried to beat each other’s scores. Thomas forgot entirely he’d ever thought he might be unwelcome there, squashed up on the sofa with Minho on one side and Alby on the other, Newt on Alby’s other side and apparently enjoying being there very much, probably sidled up a bit closer than was strictly necessary. Thomas found he didn’t mind the proximity as much has he normally would with people he knew so little of – he was usually very careful about physical contact, but as the evening ticked on it just felt comfortable, the solid presences of Alby and Minho almost reassuring in an odd way, non-intrusively there on either side. It felt… grounding, and secure, in this city he knew so little of, so far from home. So he smiled and leaned back into them, enjoying the easy friendliness.

At one point Newt and Alby got locked into an ongoing “Best of three? Okay, best of five. Best of thirteen?” escalation. Thomas and Minho watched, rooting for each of them, casually propped up against each other. Thomas yawned and realised he’d had his head on Minho’s shoulder for some time, semi-dozing as his eyes followed the action on the screen, without the other guy saying anything about it.

“Sorry,” He muttered, sitting up straighter with an increasing sense of heat in his face.

“It’s fine,” Minho smiled, lightly ruffling Thomas’ hair. “You looked comfy there. And hey, I’ll take it as a compliment seeing as you’re not a touchy person.”

Thomas’ face felt rather hot by this point.

“I’m sure you must be tired from lectures as well.”

“Yeah,” Thomas agreed. His scalp tingled vaguely from the pass of Minho’s hand.

“Do you wanna see the footage from last weekend? It’s mostly finished, and you can see if you’re okay with being in it.”

“Sure,” Thomas agreed, and accepted Minho’s hand to lever himself out from the sofa. He followed Minho to the desk and leaned on the back of the chair as Minho booted it up and waited for his editing program to load. He snapped on the headphones Minho passed him and watched the mostly-finished video run.

He could feel Minho’s eyes flicking from his face to the screen, watching for his reaction, but he concentrated on the screen. It was… sweet, almost. He felt the energy and enjoyment of the day like he was there again, and Minho certainly knew how to cut footage together to make a funny, interesting narrative. The effects were pretty fun, with dramatic replays and reactions, some editing onto the footage as well. It very neatly summarised the day, with some points Thomas had glanced over in his own mind, or that he hadn’t seen, that were interesting to see. At some points he thought he looked pretty goofy or awkward or strange, but it was never commented on and Minho hadn’t made any jokes about it. It was fun to watch, and to remember what had happened between the bits of footage shown. He felt himself smiling as he watched, seeing again how friendly Minho and Alby had been towards him and Newt, and how much fun they’d genuinely had as well.

There was a little ending segment of Minho sitting in a room Thomas recognised as where he did his PC gameplay facecam stuff, a room he hadn’t seen yet during this visit, saying how much fun he’d had and linking to everyone’s social media.

_“Okay, have a great day everybody, Minho out,_ ” Minho on the screen grinned with a wave as the video faded out with a bit of music. Thomas took off the headphones and handed them back.

“What do you think?” Minho asked, folding them away and peering up at Thomas. “It’s not quite finished yet, I’ve got a couple of tweaks to the pacing and editing I want to do, but if you’re happy with the footage then it’s mostly done.”

“I really liked it,” Thomas grinned. “Yeah, I’m really happy with it. It looks great.”

Minho smiled sunnily and lightly slapped his shoulder. “Awesome. I’ll probably put it up tomorrow then, once I’ve fiddled with it a bit.”

“Seriously, thanks for being considerate about it,” Thomas said. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Minho replied, swivelling on his chair a bit. “You’re really happy with it? For sure?”

“Mmhmm,” Thomas smiled, and lightly squeezed Minho’s shoulder, who grinned.

“Great, great. Hey, what are those two doing to my Xbox?” He frowned, looking past Thomas to see Newt and Alby fairly wrestling with their controllers, yelling and laughing as they frantically tried to outdo each other on Street Fighter. Minho gave a long-suffering sigh, winked at Thomas, and went over to confront them, acting as if he were honestly hurt and offended by their abuse of his tech. Newt seemed to buy it at first, but Alby was obviously used to Minho’s humour and laughed it off until Minho’s poker face broke.

Thomas rejoined them on the couch for some more games, nibbling at the very cold leftovers on the table. They played for a few more hours until they realised how horrendously late it was. Minho started clearing his spare bedroom, making the bed at least accessible under what he claimed was “a significant pile of important junk”. He fetched out pillows and blankets while Thomas and Newt put away the food and Alby powered down the devices and washed up their plates and cooking mess. They flipped coins for who would sleep where, and Thomas ended up on the sofa while Newt and Alby shared the spare bed.

“I really appreciate you letting us stay over,” Thomas said as Minho helped him set up the sofa; Newt and Alby were getting changed in the spare room and bathroom.

“It’s really no problem,” Minho smiled, patting his back absently. “I thought it might end up running late so I made sure I had enough blankets to go around. Besides, I’m not gonna let you guys wander home at this time. Don’t worry about it. Just to warn you though – I go out for my run at six. I’ll try not to be too noisy if you’re asleep, but you’ll be more disturbed than the other two.”

Thomas smiled. “If I had my running stuff with me I’d ask to go with you tomorrow.”

That seemed to please Minho greatly. “Aw. Well, we could start the day after if you like.”

“Sure,” Thomas smiled, hiding his mouth as a yawn interrupted him.

“Get to bed,” Minho said practically gently, making shooing motions. “Haven’t you got lectures tomorrow?”

“Shit,” Thomas muttered mildly. “At ten, yeah.”

“Well, sleep tight.”

“Thanks for inviting me,” Thomas said as Minho made to leave. “I had a really great time.”

“Aw. Well I’m glad. And you’re completely welcome, and very welcome to come again.” Minho waved and headed into his own bedroom down the hall. Thomas smiled to himself as he changed into a leant pair of joggers, turned off the lights and settled on the couch.

The next morning he was woken by the sounds of someone – Minho, of course – moving quietly around the living room by the light of a single lamp. Thomas squinted up at him and watched. He was dressed simply in a t shirt emblazoned with the logo of what looked like a local gym and running shorts. He stepped quietly around the living room and kitchen, gathering up shoes, a music player, headphones and a water bottle. At one point he looked over to the sofa and jumped when he saw Thomas watching him. Thomas thought Minho’s eyes darted over him briefly and he realised the blanket had half come off him, exposing his bare chest and back. He smiled and waved drowsily. Minho grinned and waved back. He mouthed, “Back in thirty,” and headed off with another wave.

Thomas relaxed back into the sofa and pulled the blanket over his chest, dozing off. After about twenty minutes he got up and put the kettle on; he was used to getting up at about that time for his own run. He didn’t hear any noise from the spare bedroom so prepared just two coffee mugs, trying to wake up as he watched the water boil frantically in the side of the kettle. He heard the door opening just as it boiled, and after a moment Minho stepped through. He looked sweaty and invigorated, breathing hard with shining eyes.

“How do you take it?” Thomas yawned, getting milk out of the fridge.

“Fairly milky, no sugar, thanks,” Minho panted, getting his breath back. “I’m gonna have a shower. Help yourself to cereal and toast and stuff.”

“I’ll wait for you,” Thomas disagreed, fixing up his coffee. Minho grinned, patted his shoulder, and headed off to the bathroom. Thomas slowly woke up as he sipped his own coffee, admiring the view out the window of the streets and the park a couple of streets over as the world lightened. About ten minutes later Minho reappeared, dressed in joggers and a loose vest top, his hair wet from the shower.

“Thanks,” He took his coffee and perched at the bar. They got cereal and Thomas couldn’t help but notice the casually impressive display of fitness and musculature sitting by him as they munched.

_I’m too ace for this,_ he thought with a mental snort as his eyes were drawn again to those arms and shoulders. Mino didn’t appear to notice, his gaze wandering around the room and windows, touching back to Thomas only occasionally. They made slow, easy conversation as they ate, voices low so as not to wake the others. When they were done Minho went to his computer and started editing some gaming footage while Thomas got dressed and flicked through an e-book he was reading on his phone, sitting in companionable quiet. Eventually Newt and Alby emerged from the bedroom and repeated the breakfast ritual. After a little while Thomas decided he had better head off to change before his lecture, and Newt agreed. As they were saying bye at the door, Minho casually put an arm around his shoulders.

“See you tomorrow morning at six?”

“Mmhmm,” Thomas smiled. “Bright and early. I’ll meet you on the corner by main campus?”

“Sure thing. Take care now, see you tomorrow.”

As they were walking, in between yawns, Newt asked if he still felt the same way as he had the previous night.

“No,” Thomas replied, smiling happily as they walked. “Not at all.”


	4. Bros Bein' Dudes

“Are you trying to kill me?” Thomas panted, bracing his arms on his knees and gulping for air.

Minho slowed to a stop beside him easily, breathing a little hard but certainly not as hard as Thomas, who felt like he was breathing blood. “Not intentionally,” He smiled. “C’mon, straighten up, you’ll get a stitch like that.”

He gently pulled on Thomas’ shoulders until he was standing upright again with his hands on his hips, like Minho. “Stretch out your chest, it’ll feel better. And walk a bit.”

“You do this every morning,” Thomas wheezed incredulously, watching Minho smiling away, strolling beside him. “At _this_ pace, and then do hours of gym work in the afternoon?”

“Damn right.”

Thomas shook his head, blowing sweat out of his eyes. “Fuck you, man.”

Minho just laughed. The fact he had enough wind to do so just made Thomas feel worse.

“I _did_ say you should set the pace at first, then I’d bring you up to a faster one real slow,” Minho reminded him remorselessly, grinning as if this was all so funny.

“Yeah, yeah,” Thomas muttered.

“But you had to have a macho attack and insist you could keep up,” Minho continued, laughter just under the surface.

“Yeah, okay.”

“That’ll teach ya not to trust the trained fitness instructor.”

“ _Yep,_ got it _._ ”

Minho clapped him on the back between his shoulderblades. “You were doin’ pretty well really, you just need to build up your overall cardio fitness and stamina. You’re in good shape, don’t beat yourself up over it. We’ll go slower tomorrow, and if you’ll let me do my thing, we should have you doin’ this easy enough. C’mon, let’s head back to my place, I’ll loan ya my shower.”

Thomas squinted in the early morning sunshine as they walked back, chest heaving as he fought for breath. He was drenched in sweat, his stomach and throat were on fire, and his legs felt like they were made of melting rubber. He grinned hard enough to hurt his jaw. He’d missed this.

Minho laughed again, lightly skimming his hand down Thomas’ back. “There ya go.”

As they walked, Thomas slowly regained his breath and his heart slowed to a less frantic thrashing. “Your voice has changed,” He commented.

Minho’s head snapped around, hand to his throat. “What?”

“I mean, your way of talking,” Thomas clarified, smiling. “Is that your instructor persona?”

“Oh. Yeah, something like that,” He ran a hand through his hair. “I picked it up from a friend at work, Ben, he has this super hyped-up voice when he’s working, it kinda stuck. And my commentary voice is a bit different, too.”

“I’d noticed. Why is that?”

Minho shrugged. “You have to keep the watcher’s attention, vary your pitch and range a bit, be a bit more expressive in what you’re saying or it’s not as interesting. And it’s easier to keep things separate, so I don’t start using all these dumb gaming and Let’s Play catchphrases around my friends or family, or start sounding like Ben in my videos.”

“Oh,” Thomas said, quietly impressed. He’d wondered, and seen a similar thing with Newt and Alby on and off camera, but had just thought it was one of those ‘internet persona’ things.  “Cool.”

“That vlog is doing pretty well, by the way,” Minho said, side-eyeing him. “My fans really like you.”

“Oh.” His face was getting red again, he just knew it. “Nice?”

“Mmhmm,” Minho smiled, slowing to a stop. “Okay, we’re almost there, time for cool down stretches.”

The next ten minutes were agonising as Minho walked him through a series of slow, static stretches and poses, wringing out his already-trembling limbs and muscles. Thomas wanted to make a smart comment but found himself winded again. And besides, he’d been shown the error of his pride, and didn’t want to cramp up in the middle of a lecture later. And maybe, if he followed Minho’s instruction, he’d start getting somewhere close to his fitness level. He didn’t want to bulk up as a goal, but it would be satisfying to be in better shape and be able to keep up with him.

“That’s enough,” Minho grinned, springing to his feet. Thomas’ arms gave out and he collapsed on the ground with a groan. “It’s just practice, you’ll get better,” He added as he hauled Thomas to his feet again.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to walk back to campus.”

“Drama king. A shower, some food and water and you’ll be fine. C’mon.” Minho led the way up to his apartment, making Thomas take the stairs like a real friend, throwing a towel at his head and pointing him to the bathroom.

Thomas felt a bit sheepish as he showered quickly, feeling like he was snooping or something just from standing in the room. The original plan had been to meet up outside campus, and then separate after finishing, so Thomas would shower and get ready back in his room. He didn’t have a spare change of clothes here, either.

He dried off briskly and was just wondering what to do about that (changing back into his sweat soaked running clothes had very little appeal) when there was a knock. “Spare clothes outside,” Minho called, walking by.

He wrapped the towel around his waist and quickly retrieved the pile on the floor outside, nearly tripping over a small lidded bin under the sink, separate from the larger one with used shampoo and shower gel bottles. He shrugged and got changed, reminding himself to stop nosing.  He changed into some joggers and a faded old tee, amused at how baggy they were on him. He hung up his towel and headed out, hearing Minho in the kitchen.

“Oh wow,” He grinned. “They’re so big on you, my bad.”

Thomas snorted and resettled the joggers on his hips. “Thanks, though. They’ll do fine for getting back to campus. What are you doing?”

“Making breakfast. Can you keep stirring that while I have a shower?”

“Uh, sure…”

Minho breezed by into the bathroom. Thomas blinked down at the jug of pink slush left on the counter and took up the fork wedged in it. As he stirred it slowly thinned and started resembling a milkshake rather than cement, to his relief. He set the kettle boiling and kept stirring as he heard the water whoosh through the pipes again. He looked around, feeling a bit awkward. These were obviously Minho’s clothes, and there was enough stuff raided from the fridge for breakfast for two. This hadn’t been the plan, and he already felt guilty for using his hot water. It felt weirdly easy though, like they’d been friends for years and it was just part of a routine. Minho obviously didn’t think it was strange to be lending his clothes and facilities and food.

He spotted a meal plan on the fridge and glanced over the breakfast listed for that day. With a shrug, he started boiling some eggs as instructed, figuring he might as well help cook. He was just tipping the water out to start peeling them when Minho re-emerged, dressed in similar casual clothes, hair still wet.

“Oh, dude,” he said with a grin. “Thanks. You didn’t have to.”

“You didn’t have to let me use your shower or lend me your clothes,” Thomas replied, shrugging. “I can pay you back for the food and stuff.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Minho smiled as he took over at the stove. “I kinda thought this might happen, usually does when I run with friends.”

Thomas watched him from the corner of his eye for a bit. “Uh...”

It took Minho a moment. “Oh! You don’t have to worry about it. You’re my friend, I really don’t mind. And I mean, if you’re gonna cook for me, that’s all great.” He grinned, and Thomas smiled back.

“If you’re sure it’s okay.”

“Positive. Can you put on some toast?”

They set about their jobs quietly. “What’s in that stuff?” Thomas asked eventually, watching Minho pour about half the pink sludge into a glass and half into a bottle.

“If I say it’s a protein shake, will you refuse to hang out with me?”

Thomas snorted. “No, it’s fine.”

They laid out the food and sat down, Minho plonking a pint glass of water in front of Thomas. “Sips.” Thomas mock-saluted him. “This is so much more efficient with two people.”

“No problem.”

They dug in happily, Minho occasionally reminding Thomas to slow down. “Yikes,” He laughed. “Don’t just cram it in there, dude.”

“M’hungry. And I’ll pay you back.”

“I told you, it’s fine. So what’s on your timetable today?”

As they chatted, Thomas felt energy and strength returning to his shaky legs and body. When he started tapping his feet, Minho smiled knowingly. “Feel better?”

“Mmhmm, thanks. Really, dude. Are you sure you don’t want paying for this? Like, aside from the food, you basically said you want to be my personal trainer. That’s your job.”

Minho leaned back in his chair. “If you’re asking what I get out of this, I like having a running partner. And you’re my friend, Thomas. I get to spend time with you, and I like training people. Seeing as you’re a runner anyway, kinda makes sense to me. If it’s really gettin’ your panties in a twist, you can leave me some money for the food. But I won’t let you pay me for enjoying running with a friend. Okay?”

“If you’re sure.”

“Dead set.”

Thomas nodded. “Thanks. I’ll bring the money by when I return these.” He plucked at the tee. There was a small comfortable pause as they let their food settle a bit more. “So what are you recording today?”

“A couple of bits and bobs, I’m starting up a Bloodborne LP today, need to make sure I’ve got all the settings right and my objectives list clear so I don’t fuck up and miss the story line by accident or get too side-tracked. There’s a spoiler for you. And then editing afterwards on the next few parts of Claire.”

“I’m honoured,” Thomas grinned. “I look forward to the videos.”

“Cool. I think Alby’s starting up a Bloodborne one soon as well, just for fun though.”

“Yeah, I noticed he doesn’t do LPs as seriously as you.”

Minho shrugged. “He does them for fun, and a break from all his serious critical videos. It’s fun doing collabs with him, though.”

“You have fun with yours as well though, right?”

“Oh, yeah! It’s great,” Minho grinned, lacing his hands behind his head and tilting back on his chair. “I wouldn’t be doing it if I didn’t enjoy it. I just take the entertainment quality and storyline bits a bit more seriously, sweat a bit more over the overall finish. And I like doing the vlogs and sketches too, but I rarely put as much serious editing or producing effort into them. It’s the same with Alby – you should see the time it takes him to do just one twenty minute critique, and he keeps stretching them to over thirty minutes now as well. And that’s not even counting the prep and scripting and finding all the footage pieces. Or keeping track of his sponsorship dealios and deadlines. He’s a machine.”

Thomas raised his eyebrows, impressed. Of course he’d always known YouTube took a lot of effort, but he hadn’t really thought about the scope of it before. Or how much had to go on other than just switching on a camera and chatting.

“It’s a job, man,” Minho said, apparently reading Thomas’ mind.

“I never said it wasn’t. I guess I hadn’t thought about all the background stuff much before.”

Minho half-bowed in his chair, grinning. “Welcome to the behind the scenes tour.”

“Do I need a VIP pass?” Thomas laughed.

Minho flicked some crumbs at him, sniggering. Thomas insisted on clearing up while Minho checked over his equipment in a side room where he did his PC recording. Once he was done, he glanced at the clock and sighed. He should get going if he wanted to change before lectures. But it felt so nice here, oddly comfortable to be hanging out with Minho like this. “I’d better go,” He said, finding Minho gelling his hair in the bathroom, door open.

“Oh okay. See you tomorrow morning?”

“Sure, I’ll bring the clothes back.”

Minho paused, gel wodged between his fingers. “Here’s an idea. Bring them back here first, and we’ll start from here in the morning. More efficient that way.”

“Okay, sure. See you tomorrow.” Thomas reached through and lightly slapped his back, making Minho grin, and let himself out.

-x-

Later, between lectures, he headed over to the campus coffee bar, a flyer and freshly printed CV in his hand. He just hoped the position hadn’t been filled already. He thought he had an edge though – in the few years between finishing his A levels and signing up to the exchange programme, he’d held down plenty of shop jobs, so he had about three years ‘extensive retail experience’.

The manager read over his CV and looked at him thoughtfully. “Can you do a trial period today?”

Thomas checked his watch. “I have about two hours before my next lecture. Is that enough?”

The guy hummed. “If you’re as experienced as you say you are, should be. Alright, come with.”

Swallowing a triumphant grin, he followed the man through to the bar. “Brenda,” He called, and the barista at the other end waved her hand.

“Just a mo!”

She finished the elaborate cream of the drink, handed it off to a customer with a smile, and bounced over. “Who’s this? Fresh meat?” She grinned, looking Thomas over. He smiled back.

“Give him a two hour trial period.”

“Yes sir. Wow, Nev’s only been gone a day. You sure work fast.” She commented to Thomas as the manager headed back to his office, reaching under a cupboard and handing him an apron and a ‘trainee’ badge.

“I saw the flyer, thought I’d go for it. I’m Thomas.”

“Brenda,” She smiled. “Now shove your bag in there, wash up and I’ll walk you through the setup.”

He jumped to it, and about twenty minutes later he was reciting back to her the recipes for their main drinks, and how to operate each bit of equipment. She raised her eyebrows at him and slowly clapped.

“Not my first time,” He smiled. “I did about a year off and on in chains.”

“Don’t get cocky, Cumberbatch,” She said, giving him a light, friendly punch to the arm. “You haven’t seen what this place is like at the lecture turnover. You’ll be manning fruit drinks for now.”

“So what course are you on?” He asked, standing by the machine. There was no one queueing, and the tables were all clean and bussed already.

“Computing, second year. You?”

“Psychology, on the exchange programme. If you hadn’t guessed.”

They grinned at each other and idly chatted. Apparently it was pretty dead most of the time, but got ridiculously busy for about five minutes around the turn of the hour.

“Alright, get ready,” Brenda said, watching the clock. Ten minutes to the hour change. Eight minutes. Six minutes.

Students began pouring out of classrooms and lecture halls and within a minute, the noise levels skyrocketed. Brenda winced and adjusted the aids in her ears.

“Feedback?”

“Every time.”

He grimaced in sympathy but didn’t have time to say anything else as the droves headed towards them, demanding caffeine. They spun into action and Thomas whizzed about the floor, dodging around Brenda as they switched off on orders, the demand too great to keep them at their assigned stations. He had sweat beading on the back of his neck by the time the rush subsided ten minutes later and a more orderly line formed. He handed the last person their cardboard cup, sorted out the register and slowly released a long breath.

“Told you,” Brenda said smugly as she wiped milk froth off a machine arm.

“Jeez. I’ve done commuter and lunch rushes before, but that was something else.”

“You did pretty well for a rookie,” She smiled. “Now go do the tables.”

“Yes ma’am.”

She rolled her eyes and pointed him to the spray and cloths. “Get.”

As he cleaned up spillages and crumbs, he saw an older Hispanic man go up to the counter. Brenda hi-fived him as she handed over a premade cup, not even waiting for his order.

“Have a good one, Brenda,” The man smiled, tucking a pile of papers under his arm. As he was turning he almost bumped into Thomas. “Oops, sorry _hermano_. Didn’t see you there.”

“No problem, sir,” Thomas replied with his best customer service smile.

The man peered down at him, then grinned in a silent laugh. “Have fun with the new boy, Brenda!” He called, walking off.

Brenda rolled her eyes at the man’s back. “That’s Jorge, one of my lecturers. He has a regular order and a tab, pays it off each month.” She explained at Thomas’ look.

“Ah. So if the rush is so manic here, why is there only one person on per shift?”

“It’s usually two or more, but we’re runnin’ short with Nev quitting. That’s why Boss Man wanted a trial period today. Each shift is usually three hours, ‘cause it’s all run by students.” She shrugged and knocked back an aspirin. “Pretty flexible shifts, actually, just sort out your schedule at the end of the week for the next one. And we can swap around – Boss Man doesn’t mind, as long as everyone logs their hours and does at least the minimum over the week.”

“Nice,” Thomas said appreciatively, checking the milk and syrup levels. “So, d’you think I have a good chance at getting the job?”

“We’ll see,” she smiled. “You’d better step up your performance, mister.”

Just under two hours later, he was signing a log sheet and pencilling in his hours for the week. “See you tomorrow,” Brenda waved as he hurried to his next lecture. He waved back as he jogged, smiling.

-x-

When that one finished a couple of hours later, Thomas found Newt waiting for him, leaning against the wall outside. Thomas noticed him trying to be casual, checking out the boys in Thomas’ class. He poked Newt’s shoulder to get his attention.

“Hey. I’m ready to go.”

“Sure thing, Tommy.”

Newt led him off to one of the bars on campus, trading stories of their days. Newt congratulated him on the job and for not passing out after running with Minho.

“Alby said he used to run with Minho in the mornings but couldn’t take the punishment,” Newt said, a bit mischievously. “Good to see you’re a masochist.”

“Am not,” Thomas replied, nudging Newt’s shoulder. “It was pretty brutal, but it was mostly my fault. We’re gonna go slower from now on until I can stick it at his pace.”

“Remind me to get you some blister plasters.”

“So what else was Alby saying?” Thomas asked, raising his eyebrows meaningfully. “You’ve been hanging out a lot.”

Newt assumed an innocent expression. “Are you trying to ask something, Tommy old boy?”

“Oh, nothing much, nothing at all.” Thomas grinned. Newt shoved his shoulder but couldn’t smooth away a shy smile in return.

“Okay, yeah, I do like Alby a lot.” He muttered eventually.

“The Psych guys are just too hot to resist though, hm?”

“Oh shut up,” Newt snorted. “I can bloody look, can’t I? Anyway, it’s in here. I’ll get you a drink if you shut up.”

“Buy my silence with pepsi.” Thomas replied with a perfectly straight face. Newt rolled his eyes and left him to find a seat.

He found them some chairs at one end of the ‘booked for society group’ section. There were a couple of people sitting there already and they cautiously said hi, everyone looking a bit nervous while shooting looks around the bar. Thomas surmised the ones already there were freshers who weren’t used to LGBT gatherings. This might even be the first time some of them were publicly out, he thought. Newt joined him with their drinks and introduced himself. The little group made polite conversation – what’s your name? What’s your course? I’m a first year too, yeah, from England… – and the chairs slowly filled with more students. Once most of the space was filled, two girls stood up and waited for the group to quiet down.

“Well hi everyone, my name’s Harriet and me and Sonya here are this year’s committee – what’s turned up so far, anyway,” She added. Sonya smiled fondly at her. “We’d just like to say welcome to everyone new and old, and congratulations to any people not used to gathering like this, you’re very brave to decide to come today. We hope this society can help you in whatever way you need while you’re here, and you can make loads of friends. Just a few items to get out of the way first.” She cleared her throat and rummaged in a bag.

After a minute Sonya handed her a piece of folded paper she’d been holding all along, smirking.

“Sonya. Please.” Harriet rolled her eyes. “Anyway. Okay, so membership is non-mandatory, but we’d like to ask for a small joining fee after about three attendances, so we can keep booking this space out. It’s just ten dollars. Our main policy as a society is inclusiveness and to create a safe space for LGBT students. There’s no obligation to disclose labels or history or anything like that. Just have a good time.” She rattled off some more admin and general policy, then folded the paper up and smiled brightly around at the group. “Okay, that’s it for now.”

The girls sat down to scattered applause. The noise levels slowly rose as people mingled, chatting with mixed ease from the nervous first timers to the laid back third and fourth years, little circles breaking apart and reforming every so often.

Thomas was in the middle of an interesting conversation with Harriet and a few art students when something caught his eye. Aris and Rachel had joined the group at some point and were sitting just a few seats away. _Huh_. Rachel was adjusting her skirt and fiddling with the flower crown in her hair, looking pretty uncomfortable. She looked around and saw Thomas.

“Oh, shit,” He heard her mutter. He smiled and waved, unsure whether she wanted to talk to him or not. He supposed she felt pretty awkward about the three of them accidentally outing themselves. He wasn’t too bothered; it was vaguely surprising, and he hadn’t planned on outing himself like this, but there were worse ways for it to happen. After a moment she collected herself and nudged Aris, nodding in Thomas’ direction. He did a similar double take, then waved back. They headed over.

“Hey,” Thomas smiled, moving his chair so they could pull two up near him. “How’s the reading going?”

They chatted for a while, though Thomas noticed Rachel looked uneasy. Aris seemed surprised but not worried. “You know,” He said to Rachel, fidgeting with his bag strap, “If you don’t wanna talk while we’re here, that’s fine, I don’t mind.”

“Oh no, it’s okay,” Rachel replied, flashing him a quick smile. “I guess I’m just a bit surprised, that’s all. It’s fine.”

Newt nearby had turned around, curious. “Friends of yours, Tommy?”

Thomas made the introductions and he saw Aris lightly squeezed Rachel’s hand when they thought no one was looking. He smiled into his drink and listened as Newt joined the three of them back into Harriet’s conversation, putting his course-mates more at ease. An hour or two later Rachel nipped off to the bathroom.

“Hey, Aris,” Thomas said quietly. “Is she okay? She looks pretty rattled. Is it seeing me here, is it weird or something?”

“No, no,” Aris assured him with a smile, slapping his shoulder jocularly. His shoulders were going to be sore with all these Americans slapping them, he thought. “She’s not great in crowds, that’s all. It was a bit of a surprise seeing you, but it’s cool.”

He paused as if waiting for a question; they’d heard several people around them talking about their labels and experiences as they got more comfortable. Thomas just smiled. He didn’t want to be nosy, and he’d had plenty of dismissive reactions when sharing his own identity. Easier just to let it rest. “Cool. Do you want to meet up in the library again tomorrow? I’m trying to plan out my essay for next week but it’s not going great.”

“Sure, I’ll book the room,” Aris replied with a look of vague relief. Rachel rejoined them, looking more confident with freshened makeup.

“So, what bands are everyone excited about?”

-x-

Minho propped his feet up on the table in the break room, closing his eyes against the pounding of his head in time to the incessant techno blasting through the walls from the main gym. He sipped from a water bottle, taking his break while Ben covered the floor. He had about ten minutes until he needed to start setting up for the evening class. An hour’s general aerobics for the men’s class, then an hour’s spinning with the mixed group. He stretched out his neck and mentally went over the sets and schedules; he wasn’t as tired as usual, thanks to his more relaxed morning and lower-impact run.

He smiled to himself. Thomas had really done pretty well to keep up for as long as he had at Minho’s punishing pace, and he was fitter than he seemed to think. He indulged himself in reflection, seeing as he had time. He had high hopes for Thomas, in terms of his fitness; he had said he was used to casual running most mornings, and he was generally healthy and had a lot of energy. And he had really enjoyed the run this morning. Yep, Minho reflected, he should adapt just fine. He was also pleased at being able to spend more time with him.

He was good fun, with a different sort of branch of humour than Minho usually came across. And it made a change to be making a friend who wasn’t a YouTuber – he really loved those friends, but he missed being able to talk about things other than subscriptions and stats and cameras. He wasn’t in touch with most of his friends from school, and those few he _was_ in touch with had mostly moved away. To be honest, he mostly just hung out with Alby, Ben, and maybe three people from school. His YouTube friends were scattered around the state, country and world in some cases, and it was refreshing to be able to just hang out with someone new.

It had been nice that morning, he mused. Having someone else in his space. He loved having his own place and independence from home, but in all honesty it got lonely sometimes. He’d been mostly on his own since his girlfriend broke up with him the previous year, and that was fine. He was used to doing his own thing and he’d got over the pain of that breakup a long time ago. But it was nice to find Thomas doing his best to cook breakfast one-handed, to just have someone else about. Someone else making noise and moving dishes around instead of just the radio.

He smiled to himself and fetched a banana out of the staff fridge. He remembered almost guiltily the other morning, when he’d snuck around trying to get ready for his run. Seeing Thomas sprawled on his couch and watching him, bare-chested and sleepy with his hair going everywhere. The lean lines of his shoulders and sides and stomach, thin and skinny but strong in himself. Those hipbones. And damn, just Minho’s type.

How he’d looked in the bar the first time they’d met, serious and new and neatly dressed, embarrassed at being caught looking. He grinned but shook his head. The thirst was real, but really he just wanted to be friends. Bonus if some day your hot friend wanted to take things further, but he didn’t want Thomas’ company on the off-chance of that.

He sighed and dropped the banana peel in the bin. He liked Thomas, and wanted to become good friends. He was idly wondering whether he would want to do a co-op video together when Ben leaned around the door, letting in a wave of techno.

“Hey, you’re up in five minutes.”

Minho nodded and got up, jogging a little on the spot. “Cool. Are you taking the weights class?”

“Yeah,” Ben replied, tying back his shaggy hair with a band. “I’m gonna reek of middle-aged try-hards when I’m done. See you in the showers after?”

“Mmhmm, good luck,” Minho grinned, hi-fiving as he passed through the door. He felt a slap on his ass and turned around.

“Oi, that’s harassment right there,” He grinned.

Ben grinned back. “Then take a free hit later and we’re square, buddy.”

“You’re even worse than me, y’know.”

Ben gave an exaggerated bow. “Good luck with your aerobics.”

Minho waved and headed off into one of the private rooms where a gathering of about twenty guys of various ages and fitness levels were milling. He clapped his hands to get their attention and strolled to the front, by the mirrors. “Alright! Who’s ready to work?”


	5. Only The Smoothest Of Moves

Over the next several mornings, Thomas was relieved to find the running was getting slightly easier once they started at a slower pace, and his lungs felt less like they were being shredded, but he still needed to stop before the end and walk back to Minho’s place. That was pretty embarrassing, but Minho kept reassuring him it was fine. Thomas couldn’t help feeling guilty, and said so.

“Dude,” Minho had said in a kind of ‘you’re being ridiculous and I’m not gonna say this again’ voice, “Seriously. This is normal. It’s fine. I don’t mind. You’re actually improving. Now eat your cereal and get your ass back to college.”

They also enjoyed increasingly elaborate cycles of clothes-lending, laundering and returning until one day Minho simply texted:

_From: Minho_

_Just bring a bag of clothes n shower stuff tmrw ill keep it here. N don’t u dare thank me its fine u shuck face :) were havin pancakes tmrw btw_

_To: Minho_

_I’ll bring some stuff then :)_

The next day Thomas discovered that surprise blueberries earned hugs. At first he was overwhelmed by the suddenness of the contact, but after a moment found himself clinging tightly around Minho’s waist, fingers clutching the back of his shirt. Homesickness abruptly crashed down on him and his eyes started to sting.

“You okay?” Minho had asked. “Oh, dude, is this like, an inappropriate level of touching? Wow, sorry, I’ll just…”

Thomas swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. “I’m fine. It’s… okay, this is the first proper hug I’ve had since I moved out here. Don’t laugh.”

“Oh,” Minho had replied, a bit of a hitch in his voice. He hadn’t laughed, just gently cradled his hand on the back of Thomas’ head.

“Sorry,” Thomas muttered, his face heating despite the relief and comfort he felt. “Is this weird?”

“Nah.” Minho replied calmly, sweeping his hand lightly down the back of his neck to rest between his shoulders. “Feelin’ any better?”

“Mmhmm. Thanks.”

“No problem. Happy to help.” As they broke apart Minho ruffled his hair and grinned, far less awkward than Thomas about the whole thing. “Been a while since I’ve had a hug, actually.”

“Bro.”

“Bro.”

They could only keep a straight face for a few seconds before bursting out laughing. He didn’t see Newt all that much during the next few weeks as their lecture times seemed structured opposite each other, and a lot of the time when they were both free Newt was hanging out with Alby. Thomas didn’t overly mind – they had been friends for a long time before meeting after all, and he and Newt shared a room. At the very least they said hey before crawling into bed. Usually from exhaustion – Thomas from a mix of his regimen with Minho, shifts at the coffee bar, lectures and the ever-increasing load of assignments and reading, and Newt from his own scary pile of textbooks and his incredible number of commitments to various societies and student groups, as well as filming new YouTube videos. On the occasion he was filming while Thomas was there, he tried his best to be quiet on the other side of the room and get on with his reading, though a lot of the time he was distracted by Newt’s scripting and multiple takes. He didn’t mind too much – the sort of things he talked about were really interesting, varying from explanations and discussions on social justice topics, to more casual ‘a thing happened today’ vlogging, to a regular feature where he got all excited about a new piece of academic research or technology and explained it for a lay audience.

“I don’t know where you find time for all this,” Thomas admitted after he finished filming one video. “I’m exhausted just from work and lectures, and you’re doing all this as well, and research, and editing, and keeping up with your fans, and society stuff.” He shook his head.

Newt shrugged bashfully. “I like to keep busy, keeps me focussed. It’s when I have nothing to do I start getting real pissy.”

“I’ll watch out for that,” Thomas smiled, flicking through his Instagram feed. He snorted as he saw Teresa had posted a picture of herself with her head pillowed on their pile of mandatory reading, captioned ‘sleeping on something helps u remember, right?’. He made sure to Like it before looking back up to Newt. “So what are you and Alby working on all the time?”

“We’re not always working,” Newt replied, uploading the footage from his camera to laptop. Thomas let the silence stretch, grinning. Eventually Newt turned around, looking completely unimpressed. “Stop that.”

“For four pepsi a month, I will stop.”

“Bloody hell. Well _anyway_ , we’re working on a critique collab on Big Hero 6. It’s gonna be a pretty beefy video actually, we keep brainstorming more and more stuff to include or mention, and bits of footage from other things we need to find, and working on the rough script.”

“I loved that film.”

“Wow, I’ll include that.”

Thomas stuck his tongue out at a smugly grinning Newt. “I guess I deserved that.”

“Yep. How’re your feet?”

“Pretty good, I’m getting better.”

“Good that.”

They lapsed into comfortable silence as Newt started roughly cutting together the better takes and Thomas procrastinated from his assigned reading by flicking through Minho’s twitter; he’d put up a teaser picture of him and Alby making stupid faces around a ‘mystery’ game, it’s cover obscured by paper with a huge question mark on it, captioned ‘COLLAB??!!’. Nerds. Alby had a couple of statuses about new game and film releases, some sponsored things, little updates on his video schedule. ‘A machine’ was right.

“Do your reading, Tommy.”

Thomas groaned and stared down at the textbook of the hour. But first, he took a frowny selfie and texted it to Teresa.

_To: Teresa_

_Meet up 2 study? Brain is melting._

_From: Teresa_

_I thought you’d never ask lol. Usual park bench?_

_To: Teresa_

_U bet, c u in 5_

Teresa texted him back a smiling selfie.

“Are you doing your reading?” Newt asked in a monotone voice.

“Nope, going out to study group,” Thomas replied, shoving on his shoes and cramming books into his rucksack. “See you later.”

Newt grunted and waved vaguely, only half paying attention as he watched his footage over. He joined Teresa on a bench by some of the greenery on campus; it wasn’t all that popular as it was pretty out of the way, and wasn’t looking at anything particularly interesting. Perfect for study – outside, in the fresh air, with nothing to get too distracted by, but different enough from usual.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” She smiled, looking up from her own textbook. As he settled himself she gathered her long hair over one shoulder and his mouth abruptly dried up at the contrast between her dark hair and ridiculously pale skin. _You’re in trouble, Thomas._ He cleared his throat and got out his own textbook, sitting cross-legged on the bench to face her.

“Chapter quiz then?” He asked.

She smiled and closed her book, facing him with her arm on the back of the bench, propping up her head. Her eyes were a clear, pale blue and were locked on his face. Oh, man.

“Give me your best shot,” She teased quietly, smirking. _Fuck._

He assumed his best frumpy professor face and started quizzing her. Luckily, they were soon too overwhelmed with how little they could understand to think of anything else.

“Fuck me,” Teresa sighed as she checked the answers. “This sucks. Why did we choose this course again?”

Thomas rubbed through his hair and resettled on the bench. “Okay, let’s just read the chapter over again, then quiz each other again. Repetition is key, right?”

She sighed again and they tried it over again, with some improvements. After that round she groaned and leaned against him, head on his shoulder. He tensed up and felt like his head was on fire.

“You’re a nice pillow,” She remarked.

“Thanks.”

What should he do with his hands? Would it be normal to put an arm around her? Why was everyone so gorgeous and touchy feely over here? His boundaries were pretty close to being pushed already…

“Bury me in burnt textbook ashes.”

“You’ll get it,” He said in what he hoped was a reassuring, calm voice. “Just keep going over it and it’ll click soon enough. Maybe we just need more of the bigger picture.”

“Do you get it at all?” She tilted her head to look up at him. He met her eyes for a second before looking back out at the greenery.

He swallowed. “Um. Better than I did an hour ago. Little bits are going in.”

She hummed and loosely linked their arms. Thomas felt unease squeezing his lungs and was wondering how he could politely tell her he wasn’t comfortable with this sort of contact just yet when she patted his arm and sat up with a smile. _Maybe the whole frozen still and unresponsive thing gave it away. Great job, Thomas._

“I feel comfy with you,” She said, as if he’d asked her something.

He blinked slowly at her in confusion. It felt like his brain was flatlining. Pretty people far too close to him had that general effect.

She just smiled like he’d responded. “When’s your shift start?”

_Oh, shit_. The ice cracked and he checked his watch. “Woops, in ten minutes. I’d better get going. This was fun, we should do it again.” _Brain. Why._

“Sure,” she replied, handing him his bag as he stumbled to his feet. “Have a good shift.”

“You too.”

He stood there aghast at himself for a moment before covering his face. “I’m going now. Have a nice day.”

“Bye, Tom.” At least she wasn’t openly laughing at him, though she seemed to want to. Before he could inflict any more damage on the situation he turned and walked briskly off.

_Every time_ , he fumed silently as he helped Brenda with the logs. His brain was back to full functionality, with extra regret capacity.

“What’s the matter, Blackadder?” Brenda asked.

“Okay, you’ve gotta stop with that.” Thomas rolled his eyes.

“It keeps me amused between shifts, and it made you smile,” She said, poking his side. She joined him in leaning on the counter. “Seriously, you look all strung out. It’s still a couple weeks ‘til the midterm crunch.”

He sighed and checked there weren’t any customers around. “Okay well. Basic background is I have personal space issues. Well, not _issues_ , more that I just. I have a large bubble.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Wow, this is going great already. I don’t like to be touched a lot unless I really know and trust that person. Okay, better.” He quickly outlined what had happened, eyes fixed on the counter as his cheeks burned.

“So a pretty girl got all up in your space and you flipped out?” Brenda said sweetly.

“Around about that, yeah.”

She nudged up against his shoulder, waggling her eyebrows. “A girl could get offended, you know.”

“Uh…”

“Relax,” She grinned, very deliberately moving back with her hands held up. “So you embarrassed yourself a bit, it’s no big deal. Chill, Thomas. It’ll be fine.”

“I’m so bad with this sort of thing,” He admitted, smiling shyly across at her. “Everyone is beautiful and I am weak.”

“Well don’t swoon away just yet Prince Charming, customer’s coming,” She said with a nod behind him. They straightened up and got to work for a while. Once things were quiet again, Brenda sidled up to him again.

“So, this Teresa girl. D’you wanna ask her out?”

“I…I dunno. I think she’s beautiful, but I don’t really want… I wanna get to know her better.”

“There you go. Just deal with it as it comes, and try not to get too worked up over shoving your feet in your mouth. Good?”

Thomas smiled and made work for himself neatening the stocks while she took a toilet break. She was right, things wouldn’t be weird with Teresa. She’d seemed pretty fine with his reaction, and he could just laugh off that awkward moment if she brought it up. Things would be fine.

-x-

“I miss you.”

Thomas leaned his cheek into his hand and smiled at the kid on the other end of the skype call. “I miss you too, buddy.”

“And school sucks,” Chuck continued, spinning his pre-knotted tie around on his hand until it pinged off somewhere into the depths of his room.

“What’s going on? Your friends stirring up drama again?”

“Yeah,” Chuck sighed, stopping his fidgeting and frowning down at the desk. “Everyone’s obsessed with dating and crushes and all that crap.”

“And you’re not so much into that?” Thomas asked, carefully neutral.

Chuck shrugged noncommittally. The camera quality was grainy so he couldn’t really tell, but he thought his little brother might have just blushed.

Thomas stretched out his neck. “Feelings are difficult, man. Don’t sweat it. You’ve got plenty of time to figure all that out, it’ll move along in its own time.”

Chuck sighed again, looking far sadder than any 14 year old should. “I really wish you were here, Thomas.”

It was like someone had reached into Thomas’ chest and yanked on his heart. “Hey, I’m here with you now,” He said in a tone of forced lightness. “You can tell me anything, just like if I was sitting next to you.”

“Mm.”

“Do you wanna just go on call or messaging for a bit instead of facecam? Would that be easier?”

“No, I wanna see you. I don’t feel like I can talk about it just now, anyway.” Chuck said, glancing up at the screen as if afraid Thomas was going to vanish. “Tell me what you’re doing. Just like we used to after school.”

Thomas smiled and brought him up to speed on what had happened since coming to LA, sipping the tea Newt had made him before going to the library to give them privacy. It was sweeter than he usually took it, but he appreciated the gesture.

“Oh, and I’ve been going on runs with my friend Minho, getting back into shape. He’s cool. I think that’s about it, really.” He finished up.

Chuck gave another little wistful smile.

“Hey, you know what. How about I give you my Instagram so you can check it every so often and see what I’m up to?” Thomas suggested.

Chuck perked up almost instantly. “Really? But you’re always so secretive about your stuff!”

“Yeah, well. It’s a small price to pay if it helps you feel better. No promises about swearing, though.”

Chuck rolled his eyes, an impressive arc around the ceiling. “I’m gonna be _fifteen_ soon, I’m not a kid.”

“Sorry,” Thomas smiled. “It’s worksafe, anyway. Usually.” He typed the handle into the chat and watched as Chuck followed the link, obviously scrolling through his most recent pictures.

“Are these your new friends?” He asked.

“Mmhmm,” Thomas said, and clicked to his account to scroll along with him, naming each person and how he knew them.

“Wait,” Chuck said suddenly when they got to the café selfies from the day in the life video. “shuckkeeper?”

“Yeah, that’s Minho.”

“No fucking way!”

“Language,” Thomas muttered absently. “What is it?”

“I’m one of his subscribers!” Chuck was grinning, practically bouncing in his seat. “And you’re hanging out with him! I mean, when you said you had a friend named Minho I was like, ‘what if’, you know? But I figured it was just a coincidence. Wow! What’s he like?”

_Built like a brick shithouse with an amazing smile._ “He’s really chill, such a nice guy. I didn’t know about him or his channel at first.”

Chuck groaned. “You’re so embarrassing. You met _shuckkeeper_ and didn’t know it. Oh my god.”

“What? I’m not as into gameplay videos as you. Or, wasn’t, I guess. I’m getting more into it now.”

_He’ll bust a valve if I say I’m filming a video with him this week_ , Thomas thought with a grin. _I’ll leave that as a surprise._

“Do you know about his twitter? He posted selfies from then as well. I thought you would’ve seen the video?”

“I don’t check it every day, jeez,” Chuck said, rolling his eyes again. “I have _other_ things to do with my time. And I don’t always watch the vlogs or whatever.”

“Uh huh.”

“And you’re like, hanging out and going running together?” Chuck asked incredulously, alternating between scrolling and staring at his brother.

Thomas widened his eyes dramatically. “I’ve slept on his couch.”

Chuck wheeled back, arms up high. “What is my _liiiife_ ,” He wailed.

Thomas swallowed his tea with difficulty, trying not to snort-laugh it all over his desk.

“What’s going on in here?” Their mum peered around Chuck’s door curiously, just within range of the webcam.

“My brother is an idiot and it’s not fair,” Chuck announced, spinning morosely on his desk chair.

“Hi mum.”

“Hi, sweetie,” She beamed at him. “Call me in a couple of days, okay? And try not to make Chuck yell the house down.”

“I’ll try. Love you, mum.”

“Love you too!” She waggled her fingers at him, blew a kiss to Chuck, and left, presumably on her way to the hospital. He judged it was about local time for her evening shift in A&E.

Chuck wheeled back to the desk. “Tell me everything about him.”

-x-

Minho wheeled a spare chair into his recording room. “Your throne, sir,” He grinned, waving extravagantly for Thomas to sit.

“Someone’s excited,” Thomas commented.

Minho closed the door and checked the soundproofing, a bit jittery. Thomas seemed nervous about being on camera but happy to play, and Minho was just happy to spend more time together and record some stuff. “Gotta get high energy before recording,” He smiled.

Thomas shook his head and settled himself in front of the PC, watching Minho fiddle with the lighting and camera equipment. “So what are we playing?”

“I thought nothing too serious,” Minho replied as he made sure all the right cables were plugged in the right places. He sat in his chair and adjusted the mic and pop filter carefully to cover Thomas’ direction too. “Something calm and not horror-based, just for fun. How does Beseige sound?”

“Can you do that two-player?”

“Uh huh, I thought we could take turns on each level, see who can get the quickest time. Have you played it before?” Minho asked, pulling up his software and checking the waveform for the mic. He pulled back the camera focus a bit so they were both comfortably in shot.

“No,” Thomas said, maybe a bit too casually. Minho put it down to nerves – he kept looking at the camera as if it were going to bite him.

“Just forget it’s there,” Minho smiled, squeezing his shoulder. “This is all about having fun. You ready?”

Thomas adjusted in his seat and fiddled with his hair for a moment while Minho pulled up the game and recording software windows. “Mmhmm, sure.”

“Alrighty then. Remember to smile during the intro.”

“I’m good.”

Minho smiled at him, then looked into the camera and tabbed on his recording. He gave a brief wave. “Hey guys. What’s up, it’s Minho! And today I have a very special guest, all the way from overseas from the land of tea and crumpets, my new friend GreenbeenSnappea, or Thomas. Say hi.”

“Hi,” Thomas smiled, waving at the camera as well. He seemed a bit nervous, but then turned to Minho, eyebrows raised. “I feel like I should be offended by that.”

Minho grinned back. “Have you or have you not had tea and crumpets?”

“Well, yeah…”

“There ya go then,” Minho said. “Land of tea and crumpets.”

“You asshole,” Thomas grinned.

Minho continued on as if he hadn’t heard, really hyped. “You guys might recognise Thomas here from my vlog a little while ago, links up here, go click ‘em if you haven’t seen yet,” He pointed above his head for a second. He’d gotten over the surreal nature of the whole business years ago. “Alright, let’s get this show on the road. We’re gonna play some Beseige, if ya couldn’t tell from the game start screen you’re prob’ly sick of by now, and we’re gonna try and be a bit competitive with this, see who can do the fastest run on each level. That sound good to you, Thomas?”

“Sure thing, though like I said, I haven’t played it before.”

“We’ll do a trial first level then, yeah?”

“Sure, why not.”

“Alriiiight.” Minho turned to the computer screen and loaded up a new game. He briefly outlined the main objectives and the building mechanic. “Do you wanna build first, as the guest?” He asked.

Thomas smiled back. “Okay, hand me the mouse?”

“We got a professional over here,” Minho commented to the camera, handing it over.

Thomas rolled his eyes and moused over the various building options. As he started building his machine, he kept side-eyeing Minho, who was happily explaining to both the camera and Thomas how each part worked.

“You know, it’s a small world,” He said.

“What?” Minho stopped mid-explanation, half-watching the screen and half-watching Thomas’ profile. _Nice face you’ve got there._ “How d’you mean?”

“Well, I was talking to my little brother the other night and it turns out he’s one of your subscribers, and I never knew.”

Minho beamed. “Wow, that’s super rad. What’s his name?”

Thomas smiled at the camera. “Chuck.”

Minho made sure he was talking right into the lens. “Shoutout to Chuck then, hi buddy! How’s it goin’? Sorry for borrowing your bro, I’ll go easy on him.” He gave a thumbs up, excitement bubbling happily away in his chest.

Thomas shook his head as he finished assembling his machine. “We’ll see about that. He’s gonna be so mad when he sees this, I didn’t tell him we were gonna be doing recording this week.”

They shared a grin and a brief laugh. “Surprise for Chuck, then. Okay, you about ready for this?”

“Let it roll.”

They played through the first few levels, Thomas apparently forgetting about the camera as they joked around. Minho couldn’t stop smiling and laughing – it was always fun to play with friends, and Thomas turned out to be no exception. Plus, he kept making some hilarious mistakes, driving the wrong way, floating into the pearly grey abyss, setting everything on fire… Minho offered him tips as they went, and he slowly got better.

Then, on the hardest level yet, Minho was left speechless as, without any pause or concern, Thomas built a perfect design and swooped through the level like a pro in just a few seconds, easily smashing Minho’s fastest time. He sat back in his chair as the victory screen rolled up, folded his arms and waited for Minho’s reaction.

Minho knew his mouth was open in an incredulous grin. “You _have_ played this before, you liar.”

Thomas’ look of calm smugness slowly transformed into a real shit-eating grin. It was a magnificent bit of trolling, Minho had to admit. “In your own words, ‘you got shucked’.”

He burst out laughing, turning away from the microphone so it wouldn’t peak out. “Oh okay, it is _on_ now,” He managed between chuckles.

-x-

_Oh bloody hell_. Newt leaned back into the sofa and scrubbed his hands over his gritty eyes. _Stupid brain._

“What’s up?” Alby asked mildly from the other end of the sofa, looking up from his tablet.

“Just my leg,” Newt grimaced. “I’m gonna walk around for a bit.” He strolled around Alby’s living room, trying to convince his brain to understand that the leg simply wasn’t there anymore – see, feel the prosthetic at the end there, the pressure against the stump when he put his foot down – so therefore it shouldn’t be hurting. He walked back and forth in front of the huge set of shelving units completely covering two walls, stocked to the brim with films, games, comics, books and artbooks. They were organised by genre, date released and alphabetically by author, games and manga slotted comfortably next to each other, figurines and collectibles in front of their original media, a few CDs scattered into the mix. There was even a floppy disk hanging around somewhere. Newt shook his head fondly. Alby was very proud of his weird organisation system, filmed a lot in front of it. And it made a great background, even if he still got comments saying it made no sense.

His brain wasn’t convinced though, the fucker. Not even by the distraction of puzzling out why a horror comic and what looked like a cutesy anime were leaning up against each other (‘an unfortunate abundance of tentacles’, Alby explained later).

He flopped back down on the sofa and dug his fingers into his knee joint, clenching his teeth. It usually worked to provide sensation and calm his brain down a few notches with the confused shooting pains. Apparently not tonight, because his brain sucked.

“Hey,” Alby frowned in concern, watching him. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

“It’s not to hurt, just distract.”

“Is it really painful tonight then?”

“Yeah, it just flares up sometimes.” Newt shook his head in annoyance.

“Anything I can do? Painkillers or a cold pack?” Alby asked.

A gush of affection and gratitude temporarily flooded out the pain. He smiled and relaxed back into the sofa a bit more, still holding his knee. “Not really. But thanks. Let’s just keep planning the video, what were you saying before?”

Alby’s frown deepened and he moved to sit by his friend. Newt’s heart did a funny clenching thing. _Oh boy._ “Newt.” He said seriously. “You’re in pain, and we’re both tired. We’ve been at this all day and it’s pretty late already. Let’s just call it, and get back to it another day.”

With the full force of Alby’s attention on him, he could forget about the pain a little. _My god, you’re beautiful. Especially up close._ “Sure, okay,” He managed with a nod. “Sensible.”

Alby smiled in relief and it was like the sun coming out. _I’m in too deep help._ “Good. Now are you sure there’s nothing I can do?”

Newt considered him, heart going a bit too fast. _Why not. Just go for it. You’ve spent over a year planning it._ “Actually, yeah. Could you hold something for me?”

Alby looked puzzled. “Okay?”

Newt cleared his throat and held out his hand. He was pretty proud it wasn’t shaking. Alby looked at it, then up at his face with his eyebrows raised for a few seconds. Instead of racing along, now it felt like his heart had stopped completely.

“ _That_ ,” Alby said as he gently closed his fingers around Newt’s, “Was horrendously cheesy.”

“Well I was gonna get down on one knee, but that’s not happening,” Newt grinned, sickly relief and amazement coursing through him. _Did that actually work? Holy fucking shit._

“I’d kind of imagined it differently,” Alby smiled, settling closer to him and bringing their clasped hands up against his chest.

“Oh yeah?”

“I’ll tell you about it over dinner sometime,” He smiled with a gentle squeeze. “How about seven, tomorrow night?”

_Oh my god._


	6. Dude I Feel So Close To You Right Now

  _Bam!_

Thomas’ whole body jerked and he fell off his bed as the door slammed open.

“Tommy oh my _God_ do I have news for you!” Newt yelled, slamming it closed again and striding over. “You okay down there?”

Thomas groaned into the carpet, a leg hooked awkwardly over the bed frame, a textbook crushed under him, face squashed under the weight of his upper body into the carpet.

“Cool,” Newt breezed on, sitting on his bed. “You’ll never guess what happened last night.”

He groaned again in reply and tried getting his hands under himself to push up.

“Alby asked me out!”

Thomas twisted to look at Newt properly; he was beaming ear to ear and practically bouncing with excitement. “Wow! Congratulations man, nice one.”

Newt hugged his knees to his chest and rocked a bit in excitement. “Yep! We’re going out to dinner tonight at seven, and I’m gonna need your help gettin’ ready. You’re not busy, are you?”

“Nope, just having a holiday on the floor as usual,” Thomas muttered, slowly getting the right way up and sitting back on his bed. He smoothed out the rumpled textbook pages and carefully closed it, hoping the weight would help iron out the creases. “Why d’you need my help in particular?”

“I’m nervous,” Newt said with a shrug. “And I think you’d be good at helping.”

Thomas looked down at his own outfit – since he hadn’t been planning to leave his room again that day, he was in pyjama shorts and a baggy hoodie.

“Okay, I wanted to brag a little,” Newt added, smiling. “And when I get nervous I make bad decisions, and you’re pretty level-headed.”

Thomas raised his hands. “Okay, never mind, I’ll help. So, where are you going? And why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

“It’s a pretty nice restaurant but nothing super fancy or expensive, Italian I think. I wanted to say in person, duh,” Newt grinned, getting to his feet.

“Well I’m not all that surprised,” Thomas smiled. “But I’m really happy for you. I’m sure you’ll have a great time.”

“Thanks. What do you think of this?” Newt asked, pulling clothes out of his wardrobe.

“Too fancy,” Thomas shook his head. “What happened, anyway?”

Newt relayed the hand-holding incident with an embarrassed grin and Thomas covered his face, laughing. “And you say I’m silly with stuff like that. No, not that shirt, it’s too casual.”

He got to his feet and started rifling through Newt’s wardrobe himself, selecting a few items. “It worked, didn’t it? I strongly advise humour as a dating tool.”

Thomas rolled his eyes and threw a shirt at him. “I’ll try and remember that somehow.”

Newt swapped out his shirts, unembarrassed to be undressing in front of Thomas. “Speaking of, how’s that side of things going with you?”

“Don’t start,” Thomas replied, looking away as Newt buttoned up the shirt. “I’m not bothered about that just now. I’m happy with my friends.”

“Not even one little crush?” Newt asked, surveying himself in the mirror with a critical frown.

Thomas tugged his hair. “Desist. Now, what are we doing with this?”

-x-

Minho watched from the bed as Alby flicked rapidly through his closet, searching for just the right outfit.

“Dude, relax. He already likes you. Just look half-decent and you’ll be fine.”

“It’s been literal years since I’ve been on a date, Minho, it would be nice if you could drop the cool act for a sec and help,” Alby replied.

Minho joined him by the closet and gently put his arms around his friend’s shoulders. “Alby. Dude. Listen to your old pal Minho.”

Alby turned to him, looking a bit wild around the eyes. Minho smiled and pulled him into a tight hug, tucked Alby’s head into the side of his neck. “Okay, you’re all freaked out and nervous. I get that. Everyone’s nervous on dates, especially first dates.” Alby clung tightly to him and Minho rocked him gently from side to side. “But you’ve known each other for years now, right? And you both kinda knew this would end up happening while he’s here. The dinner’s just a formal way of kicking things off. And you’re a great guy, Alby. He’s already head over shuckin’ heels for you, you’ve got nothin’ to worry about.”

Alby took a deep breath and nodded into Minho’s shoulder. Minho smiled and squeezed him tightly. No way was he gonna let anyone get Alby freaked out, especially not Alby himself. “All you need to do is show up and talk for a while. You don’t need to be super charming or smooth or any of that crap. Just be yourself, and compliment how he looks. And from the way you two’ve been looking at each other, I get the feeling that’ll come easy to both of you.”

“What if we try this and there’s nothing there? What if we were just imagining it over distance, and there’s nothing there in person?” Alby asked in a small voice, hands bunching in Minho’s shirt.

A powerful mix of affection and protectiveness surged up in Minho’s chest and he spread his hands on Alby’s shoulder blades, pulled him closer. “In the extremely rare case of fizzle, you can still be friends, and I’m still your best friend and of course I’ll be here for you. But let me tell you, I really think there’s something there. It’s super obvious to everyone else. You don’t have to worry about that. Deep breaths, dude.”

Alby nodded again and slowly the tension drained from him. Minho held him close and secure. “You were so calm last night, you said.”

“I know,” Alby said, and Minho could feel the smile of his mouth on his skin. “It’s the whole having time to think about it thing that’s freaking me out.”

“Then stop thinking, moron,” Minho smiled. “C’mon. It’s gonna be great. Now let’s get you something good to wear, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Alby said, slapping his back and stepping away. “Thanks.”

Minho shrugged. “I love you, man. I want you to be happy. Okay, how ‘bout that red shirt, the button-down? You look really good in that.”

Alby tried it and nodded slowly. “Yeah, good call. Thanks, man. I knew I could rely on your fashion sense, what with everything, y’know.”

There was a short pause. Alby glanced in the mirror and saw Minho’s hurt frown, then turned. “Oh wow, oh man. I didn’t mean it like – I meant because of your moms.”

After a moment, Minho nodded, though he folded his arms. “Mmhmm. Well, they’re very fashionable ladies, it rubs off over time.”

“They’re really sweet. Say hey for me next time you ring, yeah?”

“Sure. So, what about after the date? Any plans for that?” Minho waggled his eyebrows expressively.

Alby grinned in embarrassment and waved a hand. “None of that, thanks. We’ll see what happens but no, I’m not planning on bringing him back just yet. You know I take things slow.”

“Uh huh. Got condoms anyway?”

Alby closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Minho laughed as his friend groaned in mortification. “ _Yes_ , just drop it.”

“Good man,” Minho grinned, slapping his shoulder. “Hey, just lookin’ out for my friend.”

“Sure,” Alby replied in an exasperated voice. “Okay, shoes.”

-x-

Later that evening, Alby sat tapping his fingers on the table and checking his watch for the fifth time in ten minutes. And there were no new texts on his phone, and Newt would have said if he were bailing or stuck or whatever. He adjusted the collar of his shirt and took a sip of water, waiting and watching out the window onto the dark street. He took slow deep breaths like he knew Minho would advise and tried to be patient.

And he was rewarded. After another five minutes, he spotted Newt coming over and stood, taking a slow breath.

He was gorgeous. Naturally slender and tall, when he was dressed in skinny jeans, what looked like women’s wedges peeking out from under them, a black loose collared shirt and pale blue waistcoat with his hair in a long, elaborate plait with flashes of an identical blue threaded through it cascading down over one shoulder, he looked outstanding, if a little nervous. And his _smile_.

“Wow,” Alby breathed, taking Newt’s hands. “You look amazing.”

Newt smiled, eyes dancing, and squeezed his hands tightly. “Thank you. You look very handsome yourself,” His eyes flicked down over Alby playfully but with a touch of real heat, lingering on his arms and chest. Alby laughed and smoothed down the skinny black tie over his front self-consciously, silently thanking Minho for his advice earlier.

They sat and ordered their drinks and flicked through their menus, eyes constantly tracking back up to each other, giving little embarrassed but pleased smiles each time. Alby couldn’t stop looking at Newt – he was so stunning and happy, it was like he was glowing. He was barely aware of what they talked about, he was so wrapped up in being there sitting opposite Newt.

“Are you even listening to me?” Newt asked with a smile as they finished their main course.

Alby started, his face heating. He wondered if he’d just been silently staring. _Probably._ “Uh, sorry, I got, uh, distracted.” _So smooth._ He swallowed and reached out to take Newt’s fingers on the table top. Newt’s smile widened and he rubbed his thumb over the backs of Alby’s knuckles, leaning closer. “You look, just… I’m so happy we’re doing this. And you look incredible, it’s pretty hard not to get distracted.”

Newt took a sip of his drink, face reddening though his eyes shone happily as he sneaked glances at Alby. “Thanks, Alby. I’m so happy too, I was really worried it would be odd switching things up like this, even just to meet in person, then switching from online friends to dates. But it’s not weird at all, right?”

“Not in the slightest,” Alby replied, not bothering to suppress the dopey smile on his face. “I was all tangled up in knots getting ready.”

“Excited knots, hopefully.”

“That goes without saying.”

Newt grinned back at him and squeezed his hands, laughing quietly. “So, what are you having for dessert?”

“Oh, I’m okay,” Alby shook his head. “But you go ahead.”

Newt looked down at their hands, biting his lip a bit. When he looked up, his face was suffused with quiet happiness. “How about something to share, then?”

Their waiter, ignored up to that point, coughed quietly. “Excuse me guys, are you ready to order desserts?” He beamed at them both, almost tapping his feet.

They exchanged a bashful glance and laugh, and ordered. They talked in their own space of happiness until they thought it was time to move on. They briefly quibbled over the bill – “No, seriously Newt, I’m getting it. You can get it next time. …Yes, that means there’ll be a next time you dummy, if you want that. Okay good, now get your coat. Let’s go for a walk.”

They walked for a long time, enjoying the quiet cool of the streets they roamed together, talking about not much at all but enjoying it immensely, and being with each other. At one point, Alby shyly took Newt’s hand again and they walked closer together, hands hot and sweaty but so pleased to be there, in that time, with each other.

“Do you have classes tomorrow morning?” Alby asked as they paused by a public park, leaning against the railings and watching the sky.

“Yeah,” Newt sighed. “Anatomy for three hours. Then Introduction to Engineering, then a few society things.”

“Good luck with that.”

“Yeah.” He sighed again. “I guess I should get going soon.”

“Mm.”

Their breaths were quiet and slipped out onto the night air to mingle with distant traffic and muted voices from several streets away, dissipating like ripples on a pond.

“Are you sure your leg’s okay? With all the walking, and those shoes.”

“I’ll be a bit stiff in the morning, but no more than usual,” Newt replied, looking down and turning his leg this way and that to show off the modestly heeled wedges. In the dark, Alby couldn’t tell that his foot was a slightly different skin tone at all. “I mastered the art ages ago, don’t worry. At least my foot doesn’t hurt.”

Alby gently squeezed his hand, hearing the slight edge under the lightness of his voice. He knew the anniversary was coming up soon.

“Well, anyway,” Newt said quietly. “I didn’t want to buggin’ bring things down like that.”

“It’s okay,” Alby replied. “Your leg, and everything it brings back for you, is part of you. I know that. And if you notice, I’m not running for the hills because of Serious Talk.”

Newt squeezed his fingers tightly and leaned into his shoulder, waggling his foot a bit. Hoping the swallow he made wasn’t audible, Alby laid his arm around Newt’s shoulders and gripped his shoulder firmly in support. Newt sighed again, but quietly this time, as if relieved. He leaned back more fully into Alby’s chest and reached up to cover his hand. He put his foot back down and looked out into the park, letting stillness surround them again as they shared the heat of their bodies with a quiet knowledge and affection in every breath. Alby lightly rested his cheek against the top of Newt’s head and watched the night with him. He didn’t know how long they stood like that before the sound of blaring sirens a few streets over made them both jump.

“I should be getting back to campus,” Newt smiled.

“I’ll walk you back.”

Newt kept hold of his hand as they made their way back towards campus and the dorms. They were quiet, not feeling the need to fill the time with noise, even about something they both cared about. They cared about each other, and let that speak for itself.

“I had a really great time,” Newt smiled as they slowed to a stop just off-campus. “A-plus date, congratulations.”

“Thanks, I’ll put that up on my fridge achievement list,” Alby grinned as he played with Newt’s fingers. “Me too, it was super fun. And I’d definitely like to do it again.”

“Really soon,” Newt nodded, sidling a bit closer. “Are we still working tomorrow evening?”

“Sure. We can sort out the next date tomorrow.” He had to smile at the formality, but it was fun. Newt grinned back at him.

“So…” Newt exhaled, looking up at him with a mix of expectation and nervousness.

“Oh, right,” Alby said, feeling his face heat up in embarrassment. _Literal years. And this stuff is still difficult. Just go for it, Albert. Do the thing._ “I’m a bit rusty, um.”

Newt just smiled and leaned up on his tiptoes, eyes bright in the darkness. _Do the thing._ Alby quickly licked his lips and leaned down, one hand gently cradling Newt’s cheek. He felt Newt’s hands on his chest as their lips met and parted in soft presses. Alby smiled at the slight chap of Newt’s lips, a very welcome sensation after so long wondering what it would be like…

“A-plus again,” Newt whispered after a few moments. Alby opened his eyes; Newt’s cheeks were flushed, his lips reddened, eyes glinting and hair magnificently golden in the low light. His chest ached from the pumping of his heart and his cheeks were sore from smiling. And he felt like he could bounce all the way home. Newt reached up and gently ran his fingers over Alby’s cheek. “Get home safe, alright?”

Alby leaned into his hand. “I’ll text when I get in. Sleep well.”

Newt nodded. “Okay. Goodnight.” He stepped away reluctantly, grinning from ear to ear. “See you tomorrow.”

Alby raised his hand in a wave and waited until Newt was out of sight before turning and taking a long, deep breath. He released it slowly as he beamed up to the streetlight-obscured sky. Years of Hollywood romcoms called for him to yell out in triumph, fistpump to the sky for being A Successful Dude. Instead he just smiled, and made his way home, happiness burning like a brand deep in his chest, warming him all through.

-x-

“Come on slowpoke! Get those spindles in gear!” Minho yelled from further up the street.

“Screw you,” Thomas panted, fighting with his exhausted body to lurch one more stride forward, then another, then another slowly catching up.

“Finish line right up ahead!” Minho called, stopping by his designated stopping point, a road intersection near his gym.

Thomas groaned and pushed his aching legs and screaming lungs just a bit further, just another step, just another agonising breath like there were knives stuck under his diaphragm…

“Atta boy!” Minho crowed, slapping him on the back as he stumbled across the imaginary finish line. “See, told ya it wasn’t so bad.”

“Shut – your – face,” Thomas wheezed with each breath, wobbling on unsteady legs.

Minho just laughed and instructed him to stand with his hands on hips and concentrate on his breathing.

“Euurgh, I’m gonna throw up,” Thomas groaned. “Or fall over.”

“Neither would be great.” Minho replied.

“Sadist,” Thomas muttered.

“Stringbean,” Minho replied pleasantly with a grin. “Lookit those skinny legs. No wonder you can’t keep up with me.”

Thomas met his gaze then took an exaggerated, mocking look down at himself. They both knew he was in excellent shape. Minho laughed and slapped his back again.

“Seriously though, d’ya feel actually sick?”

Thomas took a moment to breathe and assess himself. The phrase ‘knees week arms spaghetti’ popped into his head and he smiled. Aside from legs all full of acid, a ribcage trying to slice all his organs to bits and the distinct iron taste of his mouth, he was fine. He felt strong, in fact. If one could feel strong and simultaneously exhausted. Apparently one could.

“No,” He replied, his breathing much more settled. “No, I’m okay. Just shaky.”

“And you look like you’ve been swimming, ew,” Minho grinned, poking his sweat-soaked shirt.

“You’re no better, dipshit,” Thomas grinned back.

“Yeah, but I pull it off much better.”

The laugh that tore out of Thomas’ throat hurt like hell but brought energy to him enough to shake out his legs. Minho laughed with him, hand on his shoulder and voice echoing out into the empty streets.

“Congratulations, man. I knew you could do it this week.” He said in a more sincere tone. “You’re doing so well.”

Thomas accepted the arm around his shoulders and settled his around Minho’s waist, hand resting on his hip. “Don’t give me the medal yet, I only completed your torture route this one time.”

Minho ruffled his hair, then made a face and sarcastically shook the sweat off his hand. “But now you’ve done it once, you can do it again. It’s hardest getting to this point. Now you just need to build your endurance and we can do this every day.”

“You’re one evil sonovabitch.”

Minho beamed proudly, helping him slowly walk around outside the gym to let his legs get back to normal. “It’s my job.”

“You enjoy it though.”

“Yes I do,” Minho grinned widely. “Very much. You up for some cool downs?”

“Just a minute.”

Minho patted his shoulders and waited with him, propping him up a bit. “So what time did Newt get back last night?”

“Super late,” Thomas smirked.

“That’s my boy, Alby,” Minho said, thumping his chest over his heart as if he were about to cry. “Oh man, he was so nervous when he was gettin’ ready. I’m glad it all went well.”

“Yeah, Newt was as well, though he covered it better. He looked so happy when he crept in last night.”

They smiled and leaned on each other for a few minutes until the shaking had eased off. “Right, stretches,” Minho ordered as soon as he noticed. After a few minutes Thomas felt utterly wretched again and was regretting all his life choices, when Minho looked up from his set of push-ups and jumped to his feet.

“Oi, Ben!” He waved to a young man crossing the street, who waved back and took earphones out as he headed over. Thomas sank to the ground and the blissfully cool grass verge. _Hello floor, old friend._ He turned his head to watch Minho and the other guy greet each other with excruciatingly bro-y hi-fives and backslaps.

“You runnin’ the front desk this morning?” Minho asked when they broke apart, both grinning widely.

“Yeah,” Ben shrugged with a grimace. “Gotta get this place jammin’ for the early birds or there’ll be all kinds a hell to pay, ya know. Can’t have all those suburban execs and power moms cut back on their regime. Get all sorts a aneurysms and whatnot.”

Minho nodded in understanding as Ben spun some keys around on his finger. Thomas smiled – he could see how Minho had picked up his ‘work voice’. He watched as they chatted about their respective workloads, wondering if they were together. They certainly seemed very close, eyes all over each other and hands constantly patting and touching somewhere. It was kinda cute.

“Who’s your horizontal friend?” Ben asked eventually, looking around Minho with an eyebrow cocked up high.

Minho turned and laughed when he saw Thomas, then reached down to haul him to his feet. “C’mon stringbean, up and attem.”

“It’s GreenBean.”

“Stringbean,” Minho corrected with a smile, waving him forward. “Anyway, this is Thomas, my new runnin’ partner. And this mess is Ben, we work together.”

They shook, and Thomas wondered if he was cursed to be surrounded by so many gorgeous people. “You just done your first Minho-route, dude?” Ben asked.

“Uh huh,” Thomas grimaced.

Ben lightly patted his cheek. “Nice one! How long it take ya?”

“We’ll work on the speed once his stamina is up,” Minho interjected. “But he’s doin’ really well.”

“Aw. Congrats, dude. Most people can’t stick it with this guy,” Ben laughed, affectionately prodding Minho’s chest. Minho swatted at him and they scrambled for a few minutes, with the result of Ben hanging around Minho’s neck in a lopsided piggyback that had them all laughing.

“Get your ass to work,” Minho snickered, dropping Ben’s legs and pushing at his chest. “Go on ya layabout.”

Ben rolled his eyes with a smile. “Uh huh. Nice meetin’ ya, Thomas. See ya later, Min.”

Thomas waved and watched Minho from the corner of his eye as they watched Ben unlock the gym doors and head inside.

“He’s nice.”

“Uh huh. Single, too, and looking. You want me to pass along your number?” Minho asked with his own sly sideways look.

Thomas almost choked on his own spit. “Nah, thanks,” He managed after a moment.

Minho shrugged and dropped back to his push ups with ease. “Offer’s there. Now c’mon, finish those stretches, then we can go get clean.”

Thomas groaned and got back to work. They passed the next hour in what had rapidly become a very comfortable sort of ritual of showers and breakfast back at Minho’s place. All too soon it was done and Thomas had little excuse to linger. Until his phone buzzed.

_From: Finster-bro_

_OMG!!!! U DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING WTF UR SO EMBARASSING Y WOULD U DO THAT_

He grinned down at his phone.

“Hey, Minho,” He called. Minho grunted in acknowledgement from another room. “Did you put up the Beseige video last night?”

“Uh huh, why?”

“Chuck’s freaking out.”

“What?” Minho emerged from the spare room and Thomas held out his phone for him to read. “Oh wow. Is that good?”

“Yep, he’s happy, just surprised. He’ll be running round the house yelling about it.” Thomas smiled fondly, thumbing over his phone screen to clear some dust.

“Sounds like you miss him.”

“Yeah,” Thomas sighed.

Minho looked at his bowed head for a moment before calmly wrapping his arms around Thomas’ shoulders and pulling him close. “Hugs for sad faces.”

Thomas smiled and settled his arms around Minho’s waist, closing his eyes as an immediate sense of comfort and understanding eased the sharp edge of homesickness. This sort of closeness was fine, was pretty nice actually. “It’s not quite a Code Blueberry. But thanks.”

Minho hummed in reply. They leaned into each other for a few seconds before pulling back. “Do you have classes today?”

“Nope, and no shift either.”

Minho slipped his hands in his pockets. “You wanna hang out with me for the day? Can’t promise it’ll be super interesting, I’m mostly gonna record and edit, but you can stay for a while if you want.”

Thomas was momentarily speechless. “I should probably study,” He said regretfully. “But the dorms _are_ really loud during the day.”

“And who wants to stay in the library all day?” Minho shrugged with an easy smile. “Get your books and study here. It’ll be really quiet while I’m recording in my little soundproofed room, I promise.”

Thomas blinked at him.

“And hey, easy access coffee and snacks,” Minho continued, tilting his head back towards the kitchen.

“Alright, I’m sold,” Thomas smiled. “If you’re sure that’s—”

“It’s _fine_ , I just invited you, shut up,” Minho grinned. “C’mon, hang out with me for the day.”

“Nice. I guess I’ll go get my books and laptop, then.”

Minho smacked his shoulder. “I’ll leave the door open in case I start recording before you get back. Awesome.”

Thomas headed out happily, making sure to tuck some cash into the jam jar on the counter half-filled with spare change and money from him to cover their breakfasts.

When he returned, with a backpack full of notes and textbooks ready to start a new essay, the flat was quiet and there was a semi-serious ‘Closed’ sign hanging on the door of Minho’s recording room. Thomas smiled to himself and started setting up his stuff on the main table, a fresh cup of coffee by his side and silence cutting through the distractions in his brain so he could properly focus on this assignment at last.

A few hours later Minho emerged from his room and broke Thomas from the near-trance of intense focus he’d been experiencing, with almost all his essay drafted already. He blinked at the screen and stretched out his arms.

“Hey. Good recording session?” He asked.

Minho nodded and started up the kettle. “Yep. A bit frustrating in some bits, but that’s just gameplay. Good otherwise, think they’ll turn out well. Got some ideas for editing bits as well. How’s work?”

“Pretty damn good,” Thomas replied, standing up and rolling his shoulders. “I got a lot done, actually. Can I have some tea?”

“Sure.” Minho got another mug down from the cupboard and smiled tiredly.

“You okay?”

“Oh yeah, it’s just draining doing long sessions like that,” Minho shrugged. “I’ll take an hour to chill, then I’ll be fine.”

“Don’t run yourself down,” Thomas frowned.

Minho spread his hands conciliatorily. “Dude, it’s fine. I’ll be all dandy in an hour or so, I’m used to this. Slim it.”

Thomas had to smile at hearing one of Minho’s catchphrases so casually inserted into their conversation. Minho shook his head and smacked his cheeks. “Augh, brain. Done with that for the day.”

“You wanna watch something, take a break together?” Thomas asked as Minho poured their drinks. “I definitely need a break from all that.”

“Sure.”

They settled on the couch with their drinks and Minho flicked through the TV channels until they found something suitably mindlessly entertaining to watch. Thomas was happily zoning out, brain all quiet and body soothed by the restfulness of just sitting and doing nothing, when his phone buzzed again.

_From: Newto_

_Tommy where tf r u don’t u wanna know about my date??_

Thomas smiled as he replied.

_To: Newto_

_Hanging out w minho. I assumed it went p well cos u got in so late ;)_

_From: Newto_

_Mind outta that gutter tommy. It went rly fuckin well btw_

_To: Newto_

_Great! :D tell me all about it later_

_From: Newto_

_Obvs. Have fun with minho ;)_

_To: Newto_

_Don’t u wink at me_

_From: Newto_

_;) ;) ;)_

At that point Thomas put his phone away. Some smug assholes just could not be reasoned with.

-x-

“We should really get back to work,” Alby muttered, feeling dazed.

Newt grinned and rubbed lightly over his chest, laying comfortably next to him. “It can wait a few more minutes.”

“This is your pet project, may I remind you,” Alby smiled, running a hand through Newt’s already messy hair. He loved how it spilled over his shoulders and fluffed up around his face and Alby’s fingers.

“All the more reason I get to decide if it can wait.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Yep.” Newt grinned and leaned up to kiss him again, humming in satisfaction. Everything felt a bit fuzzy around the edges for Alby as they kissed, pleasantly otherwise occupied. By the time Newt pulled back he felt a bit breathless.

“Does it count as a second date if all we’ve done is stay inside and make out?” He asked.

“No, ‘cause I still want to take you out to dinner for our second date,” Newt tapped his nose lightly and kissed the corner of his mouth. “This is not a date.”

“Glad that’s settled,” Alby smiled. “I’d hate to mess up the time-honoured dating schedule by jumping ahead to making out on my couch for an hour after only one date or something like that.”

“I’m glad you appreciate the full gravity of the situation.” Newt peppered his face with teasing, feathery little kisses, turning away every time Alby tried to kiss him back properly.

“So when’s the second date?” He asked, distracted.

“How about next Friday?”

“Works for me. Now come here,” Alby grinned, taking hold of his chin and pulling him back for a more satisfying kiss.

-x-

About two weeks after completing the full run for the first time, Thomas was rudely awakened by a wet dishcloth to the face.

“Nrrrgh, what?”

“Quit napping, it’s time,” Minho called from the kitchen. Thomas heard the kettle flicking on and he slowly sat up.

“You threw this at me from over there?” He asked, holding up the dishcloth.

“Yup.”

“Really hard.”

“You were really asleep.”

Thomas rolled his eyes and threw it back. It flopped pathetically on the floor, not even half way to the kitchen. They both looked at it for a second.

“Now that’s just sad,” Minho eventually commented. “We’ll work on your arms tomorrow, then.”

“What time is it?” He looked around, groggy and disorientated from his unplanned nap.

“About midnight. Should be about seven am over there.” Minho sat beside him on the couch, two mugs of non-caffeinated coffee steaming in his hands.

“How long was I asleep?” Thomas asked as he pulled his laptop closer on the table and slapped his cheeks to wake himself up.

“About two hours.” Minho took over setting up his laptop.

“That’s embarrassing. I haven’t fallen asleep that early in years.”

“You had a long day,” Minho shrugged, watching as he used his webcam to neaten his hair. Thomas grunted in agreement – three lectures, one mini test, a full shift with Brenda and a couple of hours at the LGBT meetup all after more punishing early morning exercise. He was slowly getting used to the routine, though, and he hoped he’d be less tired soon. “At least you won’t be yawning all through your call.”

“Mm.” Thomas slurped his coffee, feeling the heat and sugar wake him up like a shock down his spine. “Oh, shit.”

“You’re welcome,” Minho smiled, lightly patting down an errant patch of Thomas’ hair that was sticking up from his nap.

Thomas smiled down at his hands and checked his watch. “Nearly time. Remember, stay behind the couch until I say, okay?”

“You da boss,” Minho smiled, taking a last glug from his mug before standing to hide. Thomas checked he was completely out of view of the webcam and clicked onto skype.

Chuck picked up quickly, like he’d been watching the clock too.

“Hey! Happy birthday!” Thomas said, waving his hands and grinning widely.

Chuck, still in his pyjamas in the early morning, grinned back and rubbed his eyes. “Morning, Thomas.”

Thomas saw their mum peek around the door frame and come into Chuck’s room, wrapped up in her special blue dressing gown that meant she’d just come off a hard shift and was probably going to take a bath in the near future. He waved to her and she waggled her fingers back with a tired smile.

“So how long have you got before school?”

“About an hour to get the bus,” Chuck replied, leaning into the webcam. “Hey, where are you?”

Thomas looked around Minho’s living room casually, knowing Chuck had recognised the space behind him from Minho’s videos. “The wifi at the dorms popped out, so Minho’s letting me use his tonight. But anyway, it’s your birthday! Got any plans?”

“Kinda,” Chuck smiled. “I still have school, which sucks, but at least I don’t have Maths today.”

“That’s good,” Thomas smiled.

“Yeah. And mum’s taking me and a few friends out to the cinema at the weekend, and we’re gonna go bowling afterwards.”

“Wow, that sounds awesome,” Thomas replied with a smile and a sip. “I’m pretty jealous, my birthdays were never that fun.”

“Liar, didn’t you go out to loads of gay clubs in town for your twentieth?”

He actually choked on his drink that time. His face felt positively on fire as Chuck sniggered; he could hear Minho trying to muffle laughter from behind the couch and hoped the laptop mic wasn’t picking it up. “We agreed you wouldn’t tell mum about that.”

“Woops,” Chuck grinned, not looking the least bit sorry. “Oh yeah, and you came home at what, three am?”

“Hey, hey, today’s about you lil buddy, how about we focus on you,” Thomas suggested with a slightly brittle smile. He could feel the steely force of his mum’s gaze even through the webcam. Chuck cackled and spun around on his desk chair smugly. _Little shit_.

“Did you get my presents?”

He jumped in his chair, attention completely diverted. “Oh oh oh yeah! The package came through a few days ago, we haven’t even unpacked that yet.”

“Well get to it then,” Thomas smiled. “There’s a card and everything. Can’t have a birthday without cards.”

Chuck dug under his desk for a moment and pulled out the box Thomas had sent off to him. He carefully drank the rest of his non-coffee once he was sure it wouldn’t go spraying over his laptop.

“So, you were just round Nathan’s house, huh?” Their mum asked archly from the doorway as Chuck struggled with the packing tape.

Thomas winced. “Uh. Well I _was_ with Nathan. Just not at his house.”

Her eyebrows worked up a few notches in slow, menacing movements. He winced again and waited. After a moment she raised her hands and smiled. “I don’t really mind, Thomas. You could’ve just told me where you were going. I’d already assumed you spent your birthday with your boyfriend for _some_ sort of reason.”

Thomas covered his face, hearing Minho trying not to laugh. “Oh my God, _Mum_ , can we please change the subject?”

“Don’t lie to your mother,” She smiled, wagging her finger at him.

“Duly noted. Hey Chuck, is that box open yet?”

“Almost,” Chuck replied, tongue sticking out as he brutalised the tape with some scissors. “Aha!” He pulled out a card and some wrapped bundles from their padding of polystyrene air bags. Thomas watched happily as Chuck tore into them, shredding the paper and exclaiming over the mix of touristy LA-branded stuff, American candy and a few more genuine presents, things Thomas had seen when out and about that reminded him of home and his little brother.

When he was done unwrapping, Chuck carefully set his presents out on his desk and surveyed them with a small, sad little smile. Thomas felt a lump come to his throat.

“Hey, I know it sucks that I’m not there with you today,” He said quietly. Chuck nodded, biting his lip. “I really miss you, kiddo. But hey, you’re gonna have a great day at school and an amazing time bowling this weekend, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Chuck nodded. “Yeah, it’s gonna be fun.”

“And uh, I kinda have one more present for you.”

“What, in the box?”

“Nope,” Thomas grinned, and whacked the back of the sofa. Minho popped up over the top like a meerkat, obviously ready for his cue.

“Hey Chuck!” He called.

“Whoah!” Chuck yelled, jumping in his chair, jaw slack as he stared at the screen.

Minho grinned and leaned over the top of the sofa. “Hey! Happy birthday dude, hope you have a great day. Bowling sounds way more fun that clubbing anyway.” He shot Thomas a teasing look. Thomas whacked him with a cushion, but that just made him laugh.

“H-Hey, Minho,” Chuck said, eyes wide. “Oh man.”

“Good surprise?” Thomas asked.

Chuck nodded rapidly, eyes glued to Minho’s smiling face. “I really love your videos.” He blurted, face alternating between flushed ruddy and milk pale.

“Aw thanks man, that really means a lot to me. I’m so happy you like them. But hey, have a great day, yeah? Do your best at school and have an awesome weekend.” Minho beamed, giving him a double thumbs up.

Chuck grinned and gave him a thumbs up in reply. “Uh huh!”

“There ya go,” Minho smiled. “More coffee?” He asked Thomas, standing up.

“Oh God yes please,” Thomas sighed, handing him the mug. Minho patted his shoulder and walked back to the kitchen. Thomas smiled and turned back to the screen. Chuck still looked a little star-struck.

“Earth to Chuckie,” He grinned.

“Hey! It’s _Chuck_ , not Chuckie.” He scowled.

Thomas smiled and checked the time. “Whoah, you’d better start getting ready for school. Happy birthday again, have a great time.”

“Yeah, thanks. Thanks, Thomas,” He added, more sincerely. He leaned into the mic and whispered, “That was _awesome_!”

“Happy to help. I’ll text you later. Okay, bye, have a great day.”

“Bye!” Chuck waved. Thomas waved back, to him and his mum, until Chuck disconnected the call. The sudden dark stillness of the screen was jarring, and Thomas took a deep breath. He missed that annoying little kid like no one’s business. Minho sat back beside him and passed him the mug.

“Thanks,” Thomas murmured as he sipped. “Seriously, thank you. He really enjoyed that.”

“No problem,” Minho replied. “You’re really close, huh?”

“Mmhmm.”

“He’s a sweet kid.”

“Yeah,” Thomas smiled into his mug.

“Wish I had a brother like that,” Minho commented. Thomas looked at him and remembered Minho was an only child.

“They can be a real pain too,” Thomas smiled. “Like spilling secrets to your mum at bad moments.”

Minho grinned. “So you’re a secret clubber then?”

“It was one time, jeez,” Thomas smiled. “And it was Nathan’s idea. It was pretty fun, but I think I’m good for another year or two, got my dose of that.”

“Yeah, I feel that,” Minho agreed. “I like the scene, but it’s just a bit much sometimes. I know some people who go out to gay bars and stuff like that each weekend, I dunno how they do it. I’m always fuckin’ exhausted.”

“The world is a strange place.”

Minho smiled and clinked their mugs together. “That’s for sure. You wanna watch something? And don’t even ask, I already made up the spare bed. You can crash here tonight, sleepyhead.”

“You’re fantastic,” Thomas yawned happily.

“Okay, no TV, no non-coffee, bed. Now.” Minho smiled, stealing the mug back. Thomas wanted to protest – even without caffeine, it still tasted nice – but his eyes were drooping and sleep was calling him again.

“Fine,” He mumbled sleepily. “G’night.”

“Goodnight,” Minho smiled, watching him stumble into the spare bedroom. He shook his head with a fond smile and closed down Thomas’ laptop for him before heading off to bed himself.


	7. Let Me Hold You

“Brenda. Brenda what. Why.”

Thomas stared blankly at his co-worker as she balanced the fourth takeaway cardboard cup on her nose in an impressive testament to the human spirit on slow work days. It was nearly the end of their shift and everyone was in class. The entire area where the coffee bar stood, in between the gym and largest auditoriums and reception desk and near the canteen, usually such a hub of desperately decaffeinated students, was near-silent. He half expected a tumbleweed of discarded notes and candy wrappers to go rolling by. There were only the last evening classes of the day running, and almost everywhere else was closed down. They’d already waved to the receptionist on her way out the previous hour, and there was only so many times someone could wipe down the already immaculate surfaces.

“Bet I can get five.”

“No way.”

She arched an eyebrow at him and with slow deliberation, carefully liberated another cup from the stack. He shook his head and leaned against the counter, watching her in disbelief.

“You’d better believe it, mister,” She smiled, triumphantly sliding it onto the stack already balanced.

Thomas made a mocking bow towards her and was incredibly tempted to flick the stack. “What would Boss say if he saw you wasting resources?” He asked with a smile.

She shrugged, careful not to upset the delicate balance. “He wouldn’t care not even a little, and anyways he’s long gone, shoved off a couple hours ago.”

Thomas eyed the clock. Only twenty minutes and then they could shut down for the day. He retied his apron strings and adjusted the silly cap. It was a pretty okay uniform as these things went, but he still thought the cap looked silly. Brenda liked them, though. She kept sneakily adding pins and stickers to hers. He eyed one of the new pins, considering for the twentieth time that day whether to ask about it. It was a small pride flag. It was really two horizontal flags, with a slash divide between them. One was in shades of green, white and grey, and the other was more familiar in black, grey, white and purple stripes. It was a small pin, tucked mostly out of sight, but he’d noticed her touching it every so often, each time with a smile. He was trying to think of a way to breach the subject when she grabbed another cup.

“Betcha ten bucks.”

“No fucking way. You’re on.”

She grinned and assumed an expression of utmost concentration, reaching carefully upwards, her eyes almost crossed, as she slowly, so slowly, began to slide it onto the wobbling stack perched precariously on her nose. To his utter disbelief, the stack stayed balanced on the very tip of her nose. She spread her arms like a performer and slowly moved her head in little bobbing circles, keeping the stack in near-perfect balance the entire time.

Thomas gritted his teeth and pulled ten dollars from his wallet, slapping it on the counter in front of her. “Weirdo.”

“Thanking you kindly,” She said in a singsong voice, slipping the money into a pocket and making undulating motions with her head. The cups stayed teetering on her nose the entire time.

Thomas braced his arms on the counter and watched her, his annoyance at losing the bet giving way to fascination.

“You know, this feels like the start of an inspirational made-for-TV movie,” He commented, then put on his best American Announcer voice. “ _This summer._ Two bored baristas. One with an incredible hidden talent. The other one who is obviously the nerdy loser sidekick who comes up with all the plans. They will find a way… _to make their dreams come true._ ” He made dramatic explosion noises and Brenda laughed and danced, flicking the cups into the air and catching them in her hand with a triumphant laugh. She leaned against his shoulder to catch her breath and he grinned with her. “How did you learn to do that, anyway?”

“This is my second year working here.”

After a moment he shrugged. “Fair enough. Any sign of customers?”

They looked around together at the bare, almost eerie quiet. “Noooope,” Brenda drawled, popping the P like gum. He twitched a smile and leaned back against her companionably, watching the clock. She sighed in boredom and rested her chin on the top of his head, her arms folded on his shoulders. He smiled as they waited for time to pass, enjoying the quiet friendly ease of being close. They’d been working together for nearly two months now, they were pretty comfortable with each other.

He drew a breath. “So that pin—”

He was interrupted by the sound of many students in various rooms getting to their feet as lectures finished. Within a minute they started emerging from nearby rooms, looking tired with bags slung over their shoulders and textbooks heavy in their arms. Thomas and Brenda watched the waves of them slowly wax and wane as those emerging from other rooms and halls replaced those marching out the door. Nobody was looking at them, and Thomas understood the feeling from his own late classes – probably in need of coffee, but not nearly as much as going home, flopping on your bed and having some junk food to clear the taste of vague panic and stress over workloads and deadlines.

As he was idly scanning the crowd, trying to think of wildly improbable backstories for them all (one of Brenda’s favourite games) when he spotted some familiar faces. “Hey, Rachel! Aris!” He called out, and waved.

They jerked in surprise at the sound of his voice and turned towards him. They gave identical expressions of numb surprise and small, tired smiles of recognition before heading over. Brenda flicked his ear and got off his shoulders, moving automatically to stand by the till.

“Hey, Thomas,” Rachel yawned, tucking a long strand of hair behind her ear. It wasn’t going back in the bun it had escaped from, but at least there it could be contained.

“Hey,” Aris said, scrubbing his eyes.

Thomas smiled at them both. “That bad, huh?” Luckily, Thomas had been placed in another slot for the lecture they’d just been through, earlier in the week.

Aris groaned. “Unbelievable. Two essays due in three weeks? On the same day?” He shook his head. “Fuckin’ awesome. You started yours yet?”

“A bit,” Thomas shrugged. Actually, he’d drafted most of the first around Minho’s, but didn’t want to panic Aris. “You both need some coffee?”

“God, yes,” They said in unison, then grinned at each other. They gave their orders and Thomas started on them, glad for something to do.

“So this is where you work,” Rachel said, watching him with vague surprise at how easily he threw together their drinks with the ease of obvious long practice.

“Uh huh, very glamourous, isn’t it?” He smiled. He could almost hear Brenda rolling her eyes at the back of his head and turned to gesture at her. “At least, with a glamourous assistant.”

She swatted his arm and started ringing up the orders while Thomas fiddled about with cream and powder dusting. “Wow, that’s nice.”

“This is Brenda,” Thomas smiled, handing over their drinks. “And these are friends from my course, Rachel and Aris.”

“Nice to meet you,” Brenda smiled as she handed over their change.

“Where’s Teresa gone?” Aris muttered, looking back at the waves of students. “I could’ve sworn she was right behind us.”

“Restroom,” Rachel supplied, sipping her coffee and leaning her hip against the bar.

“Oh,” Thomas said, a little surprised. He started to sweat. _Get a grip_ , He told himself firmly. _She wasn’t in your class so obviously she was in this one. Calm the fuck down. She’s just a girl, get a goddamn grip._

Then she emerged from the restrooms, spotted them and headed over with a smile. Her hair was braided over one shoulder, and the skirt she wore really showed off her long legs as she walked. _Fucking hell._

“Hey there stranger,” She beamed. At him. Specifically at him. He gave a short, panicked scream in his head. He could deal with seeing her and being around her during classes, that was fine. It was the surprise, unplanned meetings that threw him off. “Can I get a coffee?”

“Sure thing,” He smiled back at her, trying not to sound like a witless idiot. “What can I get you?”

She looked up at their boards and rattled off an order, different to her usual. Thomas busied himself making it, avoiding looking at her and trying to get his brain back to normal.

Brenda leaned forward with a smile as sharp as broken glass. “Hey there, I’ve heard so much about you, I’m Brenda.”

“Hi. So you two work together?” Thomas noticed Teresa’s eyes flicked to the aro/ace pin on Brenda’s hat and her eyebrows rose a bit. Then her own smile grew and her eyes seemed to shine.

“Yep, I’ve been keepin’ him runnin’ around. It’s good for him,” Brenda grinned. “Give that here, Thomas.” She scolded gently, as he was making a mess of the topping. He handed it over, neck burning and heart thumping in embarrassment. Teresa just laughed and thanked Brenda for the intervention. He eased back to talk with Aris and Rachel, watching out of the corner of his eye as Brenda and Teresa joked and chatted. He was just glad Teresa’s attention wasn’t on him while his emotions were misbehaving.

Eventually, Rachel mentioned that she needed to get going, and Brenda nudged Thomas and pointed at the clock. “Shift’s over, time to lock up.”

Thomas waved goodbye to his friends, his heart flipping a bit as Teresa glanced back and waved at him again on her way out.  Brenda leaned down on the counter, chin in hand. “She’s nice.”

“Mmhmm.”

“And you’re hopeless.”

“She makes me so nervous!” Thomas clapped his hands to his face. “I can’t help it.”

“Why does she make you nervous?” Brenda asked, laughter close to the surface.

“She’s so pretty,” Thomas sighed.

“Mm _hmm_.”

“And really smart. And funny. And I sound like the worst romcom in existence.” He sighed again in frustration. “I don’t know. It’s the way she looks at me, mostly. Like she wants something and I have no idea what it is or how to fulfil that for her.”

“It’s pretty obvious to me,” Brenda grinned, watching the fading silhouette of Thomas’ friends crossing the street.

“What?”

This time Brenda’s grin was menacingly similar to that of a shark. “Oh dear, Thomas. I aint gonna give it away just like that. You’ll have to figure it out yourself.”

Thomas gave her a flat glare.

“Nope, my lips are sealed.”

“You’re such a dick.”

She cackled and threw cups at him in reply.

-x-

“ _Fuck!”_

“Whoah there Tommy,” Newt said with raised eyebrows, having just entered the dorm. “What’s got you in a tizz?”

“I can’t find my textbook.”

“Which one?”

“The huge fucking one with Psychology 101 written on it.”

“Oh.” Newt looked around their room, lips pursed. It was a difficult book to miss, though it seemed like Thomas had tried tearing the room apart just in case. “Have you tried under the bed?”

“Tried that.”

“Your bags?”

“Yep, tried that.”

“Have you–”

“Tried that.”

Newt scowled. “Do you want my help or not?”

Thomas stood in the middle of the chaos, hands in his hair and expression frantic. “That thing cost like, eighty dollars.”

“Shit.” Newt muttered, looking half-heartedly around the room with all the sensible hiding spots already plundered. “Did you take it anywhere? To class, the library?”

Thomas shook his head. “Tried…” His eyes suddenly grew wide and he rummaged urgently through the mess until he found his phone.

_To: Coach M_

_Did i leave a book round yours??_

He watched the screen grimly. After a minute, it buzzed.

_From: Coach M_

_Yh, huge motherfucker too_

Thomas sighed in relief and closed his eyes. “Oh sweet Jesus. Okay.”

_From: Coach M_

_U wanna study here again 2day?_

Thomas looked around at the mess with a guilty weight in his stomach. Newt folded his arms.

_To: Coach M_

_Sure, thanks. 30min, gotta put my bed back together_

_From: Coach M_

_??_

Thomas smiled and put his phone back in his pocket. “I’ll clean this up,” He said to Newt, who nodded. “I left it at Minho’s, I’ll get it in a minute. How was your lecture?”

Newt shrugged, a slightly sour look on his face. “There was a bit about prosthetics.”

Thomas stopped midway through rearranging his bed. “Not a good bit?”

Newt grunted and sat down on his bed, frowning at his leg. “The lecture was fine. It were the other students bein’ a problem.”

Thomas idly noted the return of his thick Cardiff accent. It happened when he was excited, or upset. Thomas carefully sat down beside his friend. “I take it you didn’t stand up and educate them?”

“No,” Newt said. “It was…” He clenched and unclenched his hands. “It was just rough to be in a room where no one apparently had ever interacted with an amputee, or someone with prosthetics.”

Thomas lightly laid his hand on Newt’s back.

“Don’t help the anniversary’s comin’ up, either.” Newt muttered, blinking furiously.

Thomas slowly rubbed circles over his shoulder blades. “Do you want me to stay?” He asked in a quiet voice. Newt hadn’t ever said what had happened to his leg, but Thomas knew it had to be traumatic, whatever it was. And he wasn’t going to ask unless Newt brought it up first. At that moment Newt looked like he either needed to punch someone or a really long hug.

Newt thought it over. “No,” He said, taking a deep breath. “No, it’s okay. Thanks.” He took some more breaths and after a minute or two he summoned a smile. “You should finish cleaning up.”

Thomas gave his back a final gentle pat, then got up and resumed restoring order to his side of the room. He noticed Newt massaging his knee but didn’t ask. “I’m gonna study a bit round Minho’s, not sure what time I’ll be back.”

“It’s cool, I’m meeting up with Alby later anyway.”

“Something serious?”

That got a proper smile from him. “Not really. We’re almost ready to start filming the video now, just going over the lines and drafting it tonight. Not going out or anything.”

Thomas smiled back at him. “Sounds like fun. And a lot of work for a fun critique.”

Newt shrugged with a little, proud smile. “That’s Alby.”

Thomas finally managed to get his side of the room back to rights and piled his study materials in a rucksack. “Have a great time, anyway. See you later.”

“Bye, Tommy.”

Thomas waved as he headed out. When he got to Minho’s, the door was opened swiftly to his knock. “Yeah, I was wondering what the deal was with the book,” Minho said as he welcomed Thomas in. “Thought maybe you were dropping a hint.”

“Nah,” Thomas grinned as he set up at the table. “I just forgot it when I left last time. How’s recording going?”

“Pretty good,” Minho shrugged, smoothing out the hair dent his headset made. “Almost finished the Bloodborne series.”

“Nice one. Do you know what you’re doing after?”

“Something a bit less heavy. Then I dunno, I was thinking an older game.” He looked over at the shelves full of games consideringly. “Something familiar.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah.” Minho fidgeted briefly with the hem of his shirt. “D’you wanna stay for dinner tonight? Seeing as you’re studying, and all. It wouldn’t be a problem,” He added, forestalling Thomas’ automatic demur. “So how bout it?”

Thomas blinked up at him in surprise.

Minho obviously felt he needed to explain further. “I like having someone else in the house, and hanging out with you. So, why not stay for dinner?” He mumbled down at his shoes, his usual swagger and confidence abruptly gone.

Thomas took a careful moment to think. He thought about the fact that in two months of knowing him, the only other friends Minho had mentioned were Alby and Ben. He thought about the immaculate, wonderful apartment with a spare bedroom always ready and empty. He thought about Minho, spending days upon days locked away in a soundproofed room, having a lot of fun, but then coming out of the room to a completely silent apartment. He thought about Minho only really leaving the house for work, groceries or meeting up with Alby or himself. He thought about how eager Minho had been to let Thomas use his shower, stay for breakfast, stay after that. How he offered his spare room so quickly and happily when Thomas stayed late, how happy he was to share breakfast and a morning routine.

He swallowed and kept his expression blank. “Why don’t you let me cook for you?”

Minho looked up, startled.

“It wouldn’t be any trouble,” Thomas smiled gently. “And I promise I won’t poison you.”

Minho blinked a few times.

“You could relax a bit when you’re done recording, unwind. I’ll take care of dinner.”

Minho looked back down at his feet to hide his expression. Thomas briefly considered getting up to hug him, but there was an air of defensiveness around his friend that suggested it might not be the right moment.

“That’d be nice,” Minho said eventually, flashing a smile. “Thanks.”

“No worries.”

“Tea?”

“Coffee, actually. Long slog of essays,” Thomas replied with a grimace. Minho smiled sympathetically and it was like he came back to himself, all smiles and camera-ready. It made Thomas’ chest hurt. He got up to help, washing out some of their breakfast dishes from earlier while Minho got the kettle going. Minho made up coffee for them both without needing to ask how Thomas took it.

“Okay, I’m gonna get back to work,” Minho smiled. “I’m off shift at the gym today, so I can get loads done.”

“Why not have a bit of a rest?” Thomas suggested, looking him in the eye and hoping at least a hint of his concern was obvious. “Just take the afternoon to chill, make sure you’re not worn out tomorrow. I can put on study music on my laptop if you wanna watch TV or whatever, or go in the other room.”

Minho hesitated, tapping his nails against the rim of his mug in a nervous drum. “I should really keep working.”

 _And everyone says Alby is the workaholic._ Thomas suppressed a sigh and ran his hand gently up Minho’s forearm, a light touch that turned to a squeeze. As Minho knew how particular Thomas was about touching, it was a pretty eloquent gesture of affection. “Don’t wear yourself out.” Thomas said quietly. “You deserve a break, you’ve been working so hard on the Bloodborne LP.” _Let me fucking take care of you already._

“I guess you’re right,” Minho admitted, eyes on Thomas’ hand, resting there full flush against his arm like a solid mark on his skin. Like it belonged there and wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon. “I’ll take the afternoon off.”

And he was rewarded with Thomas’ bright, pleased smile. “Great,” Thomas replied. “And I’ll rustle up some dinner later. Alright.”

“Good luck with your essays,” Minho smiled, a little reluctant to pull away.

“Thanks, I’ll need it.”

Minho lightly jostled his shoulder, clinked their mugs and headed back to his recording room. Once he was on his own he lightly touched his arm, chasing the tingling sensation. He swallowed down a lump in his throat, composed himself, and sat down at his desk. In the kitchen, Thomas sighed quietly once he was gone and sat back at the table, spread out his study materials and got down to work.

A few hours later he emerged from his focus as Minho left his recording room cracking his knuckles loud enough to make Thomas wince.

“Sorry,” Minho smiled. “Anyway, I’m done for the day. You mind if I watch something?”

Thomas smiled up at him. “It’s your flat. I’ll put on some music.” He fished earbuds out of his pocket.

“How’s the essay?”

Thomas felt his smile pucker and twist. “I hate this thing.”

“It’ll come easier once you’ve got more into it,” Minho suggested. “You can join me, if you like.”

“I’ll just do another two hours, then I’ll start on dinner.”

“Alright then,” Minho shrugged, and curled up on the sofa and started flicking through channels. Thomas put in his earbuds and frowned grimly at the essay. _I will defeat you._

An hour and forty five minutes later he clicked Save on a fully completed draft, then shut everything down. _Take that, ha._ It would need serious editing and tweaking, but the basic information was there. Now it was just a task of improving, rather than creating. He piled up his textbooks, notes and set his laptop on top of them. He looked over to the sofa and smiled as Frollo fell into a semi-metaphorical pit of fire on the TV. He very much approved of Disney therapy after a long day.

Minho craned his head back over the sofa. “You done?”

“Just about,” Thomas replied, grimly satisfied.

Minho gestured for Thomas to join him, and Thomas leaned over the back of the sofa, wanting to stretch his legs a bit. They watched the end together, though Thomas was half-distracted. There was a gap in the back of Minho’s shirt from the way he was sitting, exposing a bit further down the back of his neck. He really wanted to rest his hand there, but thought it might be too forward. He just wanted to show Minho he cared, that he was cared for. He chewed the inside of his cheek as the credits rolled and settled for just cooking dinner as a less-confusing gesture instead. He checked the fridge and sure enough, there was a meal plan. He looked it over, pulled out the relevant cookbook and set to with a determined frown.

Minho turned down the volume on the TV and listened to the quietly industrious noises coming from the kitchen. The fridge being opened and closed, cupboard doors. _Mmmmpop, tchhh, fhh._ The light clinks and clatter of utensils and jars and packets being placed on counters. The tap going. _Ooooshhhh-ha_. Pots being placed on the hob, _nch ttt_. The sharp staccato chopping of vegetables and meat. Rice pouring into a bowl, measured out, then tipped into a saucepan, _shhhhhhhh._ They seeped out of the kitchen and wrapped around him, soaked into the furniture, rippled through the air of the apartment and filling it intangibly, like a vague breeze. He took a slow breath and released it, feeling the noises settle into his skin.

And under it, quiet beneath the simmer of water and hiss of hot oil, were words. A soft tenor, the words too quiet to be heard properly, but the tune carried itself. Some tapping of feet and clicking of fingers as Thomas made his own beat. _Tap tappa tap, clk clk clk clk, ftt ftt._

Minho muted the TV, closed his eyes, and let the song wash through him.

About forty minutes later, Minho was startled from his near-doze by the sound of plates being laid on the table. Thomas stood by the sofa and gently pressed his fingers to the back of Minho’s neck, who tilted his head back to smile up at his friend.

“Dinner’s ready,” Thomas smiled. Minho joined him at the table and started eating with enthusiasm.

“This is really good, thank you.”

Thomas smiled and shrugged opposite him. “Least I could do. I’m just happy you got to have a break.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you were right.”

Thomas nodded in satisfaction and they demolished the meal in pleasant quiet. It was full of contentment and companionship and the warmth of a good meal shared between friends, not at all like the usual absences of sound Minho was used to inhabiting.

“Would it be okay if I studied here tomorrow after my shift?” Thomas asked in a slightly too-casual tone when their plates were clear. Minho hid a smile behind his hand as he wiped his mouth. He knew very well Thomas was trying to give him an ego-saving way to ask for company. _It’s not a question of ego or fragile masculinity,_ Minho wanted to say. _I’m just not used having anyone but Alby to ask._

“Sure, wouldn’t be a problem,” He said instead. “I’ll do the dishes.” He let his hand rest briefly on Thomas’ shoulder as he passed with the dirty plates.

Thomas settled on the sofa, still warm from where Minho had been laying. He channel-hopped for a while before settling on something like a silly teen drama, all perfect blonde hair and too-expensive outfits for high school. Minho had just finished the washing up when the phone trilled out, startling them both.

“Hello?” He answered it, and after a second his whole face lit up. “엄마!”

Thomas relaxed on the sofa, listening with a smile as Minho sat back at the table and settled in for a long chat. As he spoke, he switched fluidly and without apparent thought between American-accented English and Korean, sometimes in the middle of a sentence. At one point he paused, then spoke for a while exclusively in Korean, his voice warm and affectionate, teasing with laughter mixed into it.

“네. 네. 안녕히주무십시요, 엄마.”He smiled and there was another pause.“Yeah, I’ll let you go. Night, Mom. Love you both. Night.” He hung up, looking happy and light. “My moms,” He said in answer to Thomas’ questioning look. Thomas absorbed that for a second. “Just saying hi.”

“Nice of them.”

“Mmhmm.” Minho beamed cheerfully. “You wanna watch something before you go back to the dorms?”

“Just one episode. Maybe two.”

-x-

Newt paged idly through a book he was half-reading, glancing at his phone every few seconds, and the door in the ones in between. He set the book down. Picked it back up. Laboriously read a whole page. Put it back down again.

With a frustrated huff he searched for something else to do. Internet? He looked thoughtfully at his laptop for a second, then decided against it. He was too unsettled for that. Music? He tried to decide which artist or playlist best suited his mood, but the names slipped out of his mind when he tried to focus on them. Maybe something with his hands then? He settled on a game on his phone, eyes and thumbs working mechanically while his mind drifted back over his conversation with Alby just an hour or two ago.

His head jerked up at the sound of Thomas’ key in the lock. He blinked down at the phone screen, dimly pleased to have marched up the scoreboard on the game. He exited the app and gently tossed the phone on the bed behind him, waiting for Thomas.

His roommate yawned as he locked the door behind himself, looking pleasantly tired and ruffled. If Newt hadn’t known better, he’d think Thomas had just come back from some sort of rendezvous. “You’re still up?” Thomas asked by way of greeting. He squinted at the clock.

Newt glanced at it dismissively. “I wanted to ask your advice on something.”

“Go on then,” Thomas yawned again, setting his bag on the floor and kicking off his shoes.

Then the doubts set in. Newt fidgeted and chewed his lip, torn between seeking the advice he desperately wanted and feeling that if he did, he would betray Alby’s confidence.

“What is it, Newt?” Thomas asked, frowning in concern.

Newt sighed shortly, a rapid gust of breath that did nothing to ease him. “I really want to ask you a thing, but it’s personal and private and I don’t think I have permission to discuss it.”

He watched as Thomas’ eyebrows shot up. “About you and Alby?”

Newt nodded, tapping his fingers against his thighs impatiently.

“Why not just ask Alby if it’s okay to talk to me about it?” Thomas suggested.

Newt thought it over. _What the hell. At least you’ll know for buggin’ sure._

_To: Albae_

_Hey, is it ok if i talk to tommy about what we were talking bout earlier?_

He waited anxiously for a reply.

_From: Albae_

_Its ok. I know this is new to u, so its ok. Id rather he kept it private tho_

_To: Albae_

_Of course. Thanks. Xx_

_From: Albae_

_Night xx_

Newt set his phone aside again and blinked – Thomas had got into his pyjamas while he’d been texting, and now sat cross-legged on the bed across the room, waiting patiently. Newt took a steadying breath and ordered his thoughts.

“Okay, Alby said it’s okay to ask you about it, but it’s a pretty private thing.”

“I won’t tell anyone, Newt. I promise.”

Newt took another slow breath before the words started spilling. “Well okay, we were hanging out earlier like I said, we were all done with work for the day. And we was just hangin’ out, y’know? Making out a bit.” He shrugged, talking to the floor. “Foolin’ around a bit. And I thought it was gettin’ pretty hot and heavy, y’know? I thought the way things were going… well. So I grabbed his pants. And he freaked the fuck out.”

He sneaked a quick look at Thomas’ face, saw his expression of mixed apprehension and concern. “Okay?”

“I mean, at first I thought I’d just startled him, and I was goin’ too fast, that was okay and I started saying sorry, felt a bit of a pillock but it was okay, y’know? And then he says, he blurts out – he goes, ‘Newt, I can’t, I don’t want that, I’m demi and I don’t want it’.” Newt frowned down at the floor. “Then he starts apologising for not saying earlier and thinking he’d been leading me on, and I was pretty damn embarrassed and he was freakin’ out and I don’t know what either of us was sayin’ really. After a bit when we calmed down a little, he started talking.”

He darted another look at Thomas, who was looking a little surprised but mostly concerned.

“And he says he’s demi and he’s not comfortable with more sexual stuff like yet. And I said yeah it’s fine, I’m sorry for pushing, even if you weren’t ace I shouldn’t’ve pushed and I’m sorry, and then _he_ was gettin’ all sorry and flustered and sayin’ if I wanted to stop things he’d understand…” Newt shook his head. “Then we got a bit emotional and confused for a while. The point is, after we’d gone through that mess again, we had a proper talk. We talked about boundaries and limits and communication and all that, all good.”

“But you have questions?” Thomas prompted quietly.

Newt nodded. “Yeah. I didn’t want to seem really insensitive or ignorant or upset him accidentally again when we’d just got back on good ground. And…” Newt rubbed over his face. “I’m not completely ignorant. I try really hard to be socially conscious about these things. I know what the label means, generally. I’ve looked on resource websites. I know the definition. But I’ve never known anyone demi or ace really until I met you and now Alby. I don’t understand how – how it _works._ What it means. How it changes things between us.” He waved his hands vaguely. “I want to understand, I do. I want to be with him, and support him, and make him feel loved and valued.” He felt tears welling up and didn’t try to brush them away. “But I don’t understand.”

Thomas sat quietly with him for a few moments, letting Newt calm himself and taking the time to think. Newt took more deep breaths and tried to distance himself a bit from the raw emotional edge of the fresh memory, and think properly.

“Okay,” Thomas said quietly. “Now you know I can’t speak for Alby, or really for demi people because I’m not demi. And even in groups of people identifying within the same label, they have vastly different views and histories and interpretations of the label.” Newt nodded. “But I am part of the ace community. I’ve known demi people, listened to them about their experiences, and other ace experiences. And I used to co-mod a resource blog, actually. So I know about a lot of resources. That’s all I can offer you on advice grounds – you’d be better asking Alby directly what his feelings precisely are, because all I can do is guess.”

Newt nodded again. “I know. But I’d still really value your take on it.”

“Okay then. With that said…” Thomas scratched the back of his neck and grimaced a bit. “Okay. It might be easier if we start with the very basics, that you probably already know. But it’ll just help me get my thoughts in order.” Newt nodded some more and watched his face patiently. “Right, so. The ace community is a huge thing with an immense variety of experiences of romantic, sexual and platonic attraction and relationships. I’m not gonna talk about sliding scales or binary measures because it irritates the fuck out of me. Romantic attraction is commonly defined as a feeling of close, intense sentiment towards another person, in a caring and affectionate way distinct from platonic feelings towards friends and distinct from familial love. Sexual attraction is commonly defined as a physical urge or mental fascination and fantasy about another person, usually involving particular physical intimacy usually resulting in orgasm.” Thomas stopped, with a tight expression on his face. “You know that,” He continued. “I’m not gonna go further into that. Would it help if I talked about my experience a bit? For comparison?”

“If that’s okay with you,” Newt said carefully, seeing how uncomfortable Thomas looked. “You don’t have to.”

Thomas made an indistinct noise. “Right. Well, okay. Here goes. I’m a sex-repulsed asexual. That means that, for me anyway, the majority of things coded as sexual make me incredibly uncomfortable and anxious.” He pressed hands to his stomach. “Sometimes, if it’s something hypersexualised, or involving me or people I know, it can be a real nauseous, repelled feeling. To be honest, hearing other people talk about sex or sometimes just pretty strong flirting can be a real weird experience. I’m not saying I’m disgusted by you, or other sexual people,” He added quickly and Newt felt a brief relief. “It’s not personal. I don’t find people repellent or whatever, it’s the thought of sexual acts with them that gets the response. I enjoy a lot of aesthetic attraction and appreciation. It’s almost removed from the person, for me. I’m very happy to look and admire and see beauty in other people. It’s the _act_ of sexual behaviour, or sexualised context, _that_ repulses me. The thought of someone being sexual with me, or that sort of coded behaviour, it…” He shuddered, face pale. “Not good, for me. That’s how I experience it, anyway. I’m all for other people enjoying their sex lives. I just definitely want zero details about it, and none of it directed at me.”

Newt nodded again. “Was what I said earlier…?”

“A little,” Thomas admitted. “But you were being vague, so it wasn’t strong. Just uncomfortable. So, that’s how I experience sexual stuff. A pretty common definition for demisexuals is that they don’t experience sexual attraction at all, or very little, unless they’ve formed a very strong romantic or general emotional bond with someone, and then usually that sexual attraction is focussed to that person only. Obviously it’s different for everyone and I don’t know what it’s like for Alby. One demi girl I knew said that even when she experienced sexual attraction to a partner, there was still a divide between what she felt and what she was comfortable doing. She said once she was happy enjoying sexual fantasies about her partner, but she didn’t want to act on the vast majority of those fantasies. Other people I’ve talked to said that once the bond is strong enough, they felt they could trust their partner to explore sexual activity with them like sexuals in a relationship.” He shrugged and rubbed through his hair. “You should really talk to Alby.”

“He did say a little,” Newt said. “He said it took him a long time to develop any sexual feelings towards his partners, even in long term committed romantic relationships. He said he could ‘compromise a bit’ but most things still made him uncomfortable.” He frowned down at his hands. “How am I supposed to show him I care about him, and be affectionate the ways I know how, when I’m worried he’s gonna freak out whatever I do, and that – that maybe, it’ll never happen for us. If our connection just isn’t strong enough for that to ever happen.” He looked at his leg. “What if it could happen, but I’m just not attractive to him?”

Thomas didn’t reply for a minute. “Two points there. Point number one – you’re thinking that sex is the ultimate goal in a relationship. It’s not. Believe me, it’s not. Other intimacies can be far greater and more fulfilling than sex. If you’re actually talking about expressing romantic affection in a physical way, I have tons of resources giving tips. There’s a limit to sexually-coded behaviour, even in a hypersexualised mess of a world.” He grimaced briefly. “And so much depends on context. It’s how you both define the action.” He cleared his throat, blushing a little. “In one of my relationships, it was pretty common for us to bathe together. We’d wash and take care of each other, and there was a lot of physical closeness. But it wasn’t about being naked, and there was nothing sexual about it, though I’m told sexuals often do the same thing as foreplay or aftercare or whatever. The whole thing was about trust and affection and showing it to each other. Mostly you just need to be a bit imaginative, try out what works, and communicate whether you’re having the same view on something. Figure out what works for you both, and enjoy it. It’s not that difficult, really. Point number two – you’re thinking it’s personal to how sexually attractive you are. While that’s pretty normal, it’s missing the point. As far as I understand being demi, it’s the strength of romantic feelings that determines sexual feelings. And as an outsider, I’d say you’ve both got it in spades.” He smiled as if he’d made a joke, but Newt’s head was spinning too much to register it.

The room was quiet for a long while, as they both collected their thoughts.

“For me,” Newt ventured carefully, “Sex is like… it’s being vulnerable and intimate and showing trust and having fun and enjoying each other. It helps me feel close with my partner. And for me, kissing is a sexual thing. It leads to arousal, and sexual stuff. And Alby was fine with that, we were having fun. I just… I don’t see how we could have such different feelings about the same thing.”

“He probably has a different definition of sexual activity,” Thomas shrugged. “I like kissing with my romantic partners. For me, it’s a physical expression of fondness and love, and it’s really important in my relationships. It’s not a means to an end, it’s the gesture itself.”

Newt nodded thoughtfully.

“It’s maybe a bit too different to understand at first,” Thomas said. “But in practice, it’s not all that difficult. Talk to Alby. Have long, honest conversations about this stuff. Write it down, if it helps.” He hesitated. “Reassure him you still want to be in a romantic relationship with him. It sounds like he was afraid you wouldn’t be interested if there wasn’t sex involved. He’s probably pretty worried about that. We often…” He sighed. “It’s hard not to feel broken in a world where everything is sexualised and any expression that it’s not for you is likened to being an alien or a plant or a microbe. Make sure he knows you don’t think he’s broken. And talk. Talk a lot. I know you both care a lot about each other. I think you’ll be okay.”

Newt gave him a shaky smile. It was all really fucking confusing to him and intimidating how little he’d understood before, but he’d meant what he’d said. He wanted to be with Alby, more than almost anything. He was so happy with Alby. He was a little upset Alby had never mentioned this in any of their talks over the years, but he could understand why. He knew all relationships required adjustment. Okay then. He would adjust. It would work. And if it didn’t, it wouldn’t be for lack of trying.

“There you go,” Thomas smiled tiredly.

“Thank you, Tommy. For your advice, and for sharing all you did. It really means a lot. Thank you.”

Thomas nodded and they shared a brief rest of silence, acknowledging the weight of what they’d discussed. Then, “I’ll email you some links tomorrow, so you can do some reading.”

“Thanks.”

Thomas stood and they folded into each other in a reassuring hug that lasted long moments. Newt clung to Thomas’ arms, and Thomas held him close like a panicked bird in need of firm capturing.

“Thanks, Tommy.” Newt mumbled again.

Thomas squeezed him gently. “Let’s get to bed. I dunno about you, but I’m exhausted and I have a 9am lecture in the morning.”

“Ugh, me too.” They pulled apart and Newt lightly rested his palm along Thomas’ cheek, a small fond touch that warmed them both. “G’night, Tommy.”

“Night, Newt.”

They rolled into their respective beds, Newt took of his leg, turned off the lights, and within a minute heard Thomas’ slow, deep breaths of sleep. Newt stared at the wall for a while, then got out his phone. He ducked the device under his covers so the wash of harsh blue light wouldn’t wake Thomas.

_To: Albae_

_I know ur probably asleep rn, so consider this a morning msg. im sorry 4 earlier. I still feel the same about u, im not about to run for the hills : > im gonna learn and were gonna talk and we’ll work it out and have a gr8 time. I promise. Xx_

He didn’t expect a reply, but his phone lit up again after only a minute.

_From: Albae_

_ily. Xxx_

Newt smiled and closed his eyes, slipping away into the blissful reaches of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, please let me know if I'm talking complete bullshit here regards the last section and the Korean phrases - if there are any glaring errors please contact me. Same goes for the last section, please tell me about any errors. My tumblr is at spanglebangle.tumblr.com.


	8. [Generic Ukulele Background Music Playing]

Newt rested his cheek on Alby’s shoulder and sighed quietly, while Alby brushed the joints of his fingers against Newt’s upper arm in a slow, rhythmic caress. Newt closed his eyes briefly, fingers resting on the flat surface of his laptop keyboard as he leaned into Alby. They were curled up together on Alby’s couch, maybe a little too warm in the golden autumnal heat of the afternoon, but neither wanted to move. Newt felt Alby’s head moving and then a gentle press of lips against his temple, the slight squash of nose and chin above and under them making him smile.

“Where were we, anyway?” Newt asked, voice quiet and contented as he blinked his eyes open again, fighting the urge to doze off.

“On ‘not in public’,” Alby replied in the same tone, lips against Newt’s skin.

Newt made a noise of agreement and looked over the table they’d been writing for the past few hours, painstakingly and with much misguided embarrassment. It was split into two halves, labelled with each of their names, and subdivided into various categories like ‘Always Okay / Ask Permission / Okay in Public / Okay with Friends / Special Circumstances Only / To Try / Consider Again Later / The Spirit Is Willing But… / Cautious Limit / Hard Limit – Never’, for just a few. At first it had been awkward to sit next to each other and discuss in extreme detail the precise minutiae of their sexual and sensual wants and curiosities and limits. A few times they’d both suggested they just scrap the idea. But they’d persevered, pushed through the period of disconcertment and it just seemed comfortable now. Newt looked back over Alby’s list and his smile grew – it was easier to get his head around how Alby saw things now, and some of the ideas Alby had substituted for sexual acts looked like they could be really fun, and Newt definitely wanted to try most out sooner rather than later.

It comforted him to have something concrete for reference. When Newt had come over in the morning, he’d been paranoid that every little touch would be too much or somehow too sexual and freak Alby out, despite the memory of laying curled into each other happily and eagerly making out from just the previous day. They’d sat down, a little distanced, and talked. Newt relayed the bones of his conversation with Thomas and had briefly panicked as Alby teared up.

“It just means so much to me that you want to accommodate me,” Alby had said, wiping his cheeks from within the instinctively protective circle of Newt’s arms.

“I don’t want to just ‘accommodate’ you,” Newt had replied, frowning in concern. “I want you to be happy, up and down and back to front and through and through.”

They’d both cried a bit after that.

Then, leaning up against each other, they’d started making this huge table, exhaustively going over anything they could think of that might cause a potential problem. Some things had been difficult to hear, on both sides, and Newt was still trying to get used to the idea of taking the sexual element out of so many of the things he was used to doing with his partners. He’d been trying to express that to Alby but found himself tripping over words and his own corrections and new ways of discussing it, getting increasingly frustrated, so Alby had held him closer and started kissing over his face. Up then down, side to side, all over. Warming and comforting him, through and through.

He rubbed his cheek against Alby’s shoulder again and felt the curve of his boyfriend’s lips against his temple. It was getting really difficult to concentrate on the table and not fall asleep. But he knew there would be hell to pay for his sleep cycle if he dozed off in the middle of the day, so he sat up a bit taller and shared a smile.

“It’s kinda hard to concentrate on just one thing for hours,” Alby commented, reaching up to gently touch a few static-alert patches of Newt’s hair, come free from his loose bun. His fingers jerked at the static shock but he just smiled.

“Yeah. Though I’m glad we’re doing this,” Newt replied. “It really helps. When I can understand something, it’s much easier to deal with. With this, and with all the talkin’, I… I dunno if I can say I understand you now, ‘cause that’s not right. But you know what I mean – I can see how this affects stuff, and what I can do, and change. So that’s good. I mean, I’m gonna fuck up at some point, let’s be real. But hopefully not too badly, now I know some of this.”

“That’s the plan,” Alby smiled. “And, y’know. I really appreciate you being willing, and eager, to listen, and take all this on board.”

“It’s a small enough price.” Newt said, then frowned. “Aw, fuck. I don’t mean – it’s not a sacrifice to be with you, I didn’t…. fuck.”

Alby nodded after a second, thinking briefly of his own slip to Minho before his date. “There’s a lot of ways to interpret everything.” He said. “I know you didn’t mean it like that.”

Newt’s smile twisted up self-mockingly. “And you know I’ve done many hours’ worth of videos talkin’ about the impact of language. Correct me when I don’t catch myself, okay? I don’t wanna fuck up like that. It’s shitty to you, and I don’t want that.”

Alby smiled at him fondly. “Sure. How about we try something?”

“Like from the list?”

“Sure.”

Newt glanced over it again. “Did you have something in mind?”

Alby smiled again, and carefully set the laptop on a side table. He pulled Newt closer until he was sitting across Alby’s lap, looking down at him. Alby rested his hands on Newt’s hips.

“Okay, uh, just right off, this could definitely head places you don’t wanna go,” Newt said with a quick grin.

“I know. I want to show you why it doesn’t need to go there.”

“Well, you got my attention,” Newt admitted, running his fingers lightly over Alby’s shoulders.

Alby smiled up at him, hands calm and steady on Newt’s hips. For a while, he just looked, and Newt felt a little silly, sitting there on display. But he was caught by Alby’s expression – open, calm, and just a little tender. His eyes drifted lazily over Newt’s face to his hair, chest, arms, back to his face again. They moved without particular direction, simply observing the person in front of him. But with each pass of his eyes, Newt felt less self-conscious, oddly. More like he was becoming so absorbed in the look in Alby’s eyes that everything else… faded away. His skin warmed with each glance and he found his thoughts winding down. Without even thinking about it, he began to look back, and really _see_. The delicate, oh so gradual change of skin tone between the soft curve of Alby’s cheek, across the plane to his nose, and down to his lips again. The symmetry in his face, and the slight irregularities. The intricate details of his close-shaved hair and the simple, wonderful curve of his head. How each line of his face swelled into each other, and changed with each fleeting micro-expression. The little crease of his eyes that said, _you’re beautiful_. The bend of his lips, and jut of his chin.

He became absorbed in drinking in the details of Alby’s face for the first time, seeing how each tiny part made up the whole, and how they all blended together to form those features he knew so well. The play of light and shadow and each fleeting change, all perfect and so obvious but something he’d never taken the time to really see before.

Then Alby’s hands moved, holding up Newt’s hands to a midpoint between them. Their eyes met, then Alby flicked his down to their hands and Newt joined him. Moving with infinite patience, Alby turned his hands, examining each finger and joint and hair and freckle, the lines of his palm, bones of his wrist, in all their miraculous interplay. As Alby examined him, so did Newt. He watched how Alby’s fingers moved together with such delicate precision to hold his own hands, manipulate and touch them. He felt each texture, from smooth palm to hard nail to the firmness of bone close under the skin, the tendons of each joint and the superb varieties of pressure and sensation from the slightest touch.

He felt suffused with softness and a muted amazement that he’d never taken the time to see another person like this before, to revel and marvel in every pore of their skin. Then Alby kissed his fingertips, eyes closing with each contact, and Newt was left to wonder at how they came together, the slight movements of his lips and the sweep of eyelashes, the warmth of his skin against Newt’s and the love in each tiny kiss. He felt almost overwhelmed by the wealth of meaning in each tiny movement. Alby’s lips traced in gently firm paths all over his hands, from the tips of his nails across the plains of his palms and the backs of his hands, the mountains and valleys of his knuckles and careful bluffs of his wrist bones, each touch a silent love letter.

When he was done, he held Newt’s hands to his cheek and smiled like a pure beam of light. Newt gently extricated his hands and ran his fingertips over Alby’s face, adoring each infinitesimal furrow and the ever-changing texture and tone of him. From his cheeks, from the top of the firm bones to the soft squish of their apples, the dip of his nose and minutely changing textures around his lips from an ‘I forgot to shave this morning’ slight stubble to the soft fullness of his lips. From the bone of his chin up to the arch of his eyebrows and forehead and the dips of his eyes, the miniscule pleats of expression around them and the long, smooth curve of his head, Newt’s fingers rasping quietly against his hair as he traced the shape of him.

_I could get lost in you._

Newt traced down the back of his neck and brought his hands to rest on Alby’s chest, trying and failing to tear his eyes away from the wonder before him.

“See?”

Newt nodded, then bent to rest his forehead against Alby’s, eyes closed. Alby wrapped his arms around Newt’s waist and held him close. “I feel like I’ve been fumbling in the dark,” Newt muttered. “You’re so gorgeous.”

Alby didn’t need to reply in words; he simply squeezed his arms tighter and held him tight.

-x-

Alby adjusted his shades and squinted out over the street as he leaned back against a store wall. He scanned the crowds milling around the college, trying to pick out a distinctive head of hair. He checked his watch, his phone, and the street again. Just as he was wondering whether Newt would make it a habit to always be late, he spotted a crown of pale hair heading his way through the crowds, and smiled.

“Hey there,” Newt smiled as he crossed the street to Alby. He was wearing jeans as skinny as he could wear over the prosthetic wrappings and a flowery, flowing top that looked like it had come from the women’s section, raggedy backpack slung over one shoulder. Alby was pretty happy in his cargo pants and loose tee. “Have you been waiting long?”

“Not really. How was your lecture?”

“Eh.” Newt shrugged. “Not too bad. Lots of reading for later.”

Alby frowned a little. “Do you want to study rather than head out?”

Newt took his hand, lacing their fingers together with a satisfied smile. “Definitely not.”

“Y’know, I’m beginning to wonder when you ever have time to study, it seems like you’re always working on videos or hanging out with me or doing society stuff when you’re not in lectures.” Alby smiled back, squeezing his hand.

“The library only closes on Sundays at 10pm.”

“Ahh.”

“Alby, don’t worry, really. I’m gettin’ all my work and reading done, and a good amount of sleep. It’s all fine.”

Alby remained sceptical, and it must have shown on his face because Newt leaned up and gently kissed the corner of his lips. “Alby, I absolutely promise you’re not enabling a flunk-out. And if I _really_ needed to study instead of hang out, I’d say so and we’d meet up another time. Okay?”

Alby had to smile, and kissed him back lightly, a gentle press of lips. “Consider my conscience eased. For now. D’you want some lunch?”

“Fuck yes.”

Alby squeezed his hand and they headed off, wandering around holding hands until they found an out of the way coffee shop that wasn’t too busy.

“No, no, you sit down, I’ll get it,” Alby insisted.

“But you paid for our last date,” Newt protested.

Alby thought for a second. “Does this really count as a date?”

“I dunno. Could do? What is it now, number six?”

Newt’s face was all scrunched up in thought, serious and concerned. Alby began to laugh weakly, which made Newt frown.

“What?”

“It’s – it’s just lunch,” Alby laughed. “Newt, it’s just lunch.”

Newt frowned at him for a few seconds before he joined in. He patted Alby’s chest, still laughing, and sat down at a table by the window, shoulders shaking as he tried to laugh quietly. By the time Alby rejoined him with food and their drinks, he was mostly settled down, though his face kept creasing up as if he were trying really hard not to start again.

“I was thinking about after we finish the Big Hero Six thing,” Alby said as they ate, “We could do another joint-review, if you like. We could make it a side series, you know? I’ve really liked working with you, and I like the different things you bring to the table on it, critically speaking. If your timetable would allow that.”

Newt considered it for a while, watching people pass in the street as he sipped his coffee. Alby watched his face, the thoughtful frown of his eyes and purse of his lips over the mug rim. Alby was considering whether to prompt him when Newt looked back at him, serious and focused.

“I would really love that, Alby, I would.” He smiled fondly and covered Alby’s hand on the table between them. “It’s been so much fun, and super interesting workin’ on the review with you. But it took just over a month to pull it all together, and there’s still a few bits to re-record, and then you need to do all the editing. And I know you haven’t had time to work on another review in the meantime, or anything really aside from fun gameplay bits. And I’ve been busy with my own channel, and hangin’ out together—” He smiled and squeezed Alby’s hand – “And with studying. I think it would be great, when we both have space in our schedules. But I don’t think either of us really do right now.”

Alby nodded in understanding and squeezed back.

“I mean, if you want my input on anythin’, all you have to do is ask,” Newt added. “I’m happy to help like that, if you want. But actually doing the full thing together might be too much right now. I think once this is done, it would be nice when we’re hanging out just to be, you know, enjoying being with each other, rather than working.”

“That’s probably sensible,” Alby agreed, a little crestfallen, but aware enough of both their limitations and time constraints. He was already a little behind on a sponsored project for a local game studio. They hadn’t asked him for any updates yet, but he reckoned he had about a week to come up with a rough draft to show them. Not too bad, and he’d worked under harsher time limits when he’d taken on too many projects at once, earlier on in his channel’s career, but it wasn’t ideal for the amount of thought he wanted to put into it before setting any figurative pen to paper. And it would be nice to devote the time they’d spent planning, scripting, and filming to some dedicated time for their relationship, and other friends. Guiltily, he remembered he hadn’t hung out properly with Minho for about a month now. And sure, he and Thomas were getting along like a house on fire, but Alby didn’t want him to feel neglected. And he should probably make more of an effort to get to know Thomas.

“You okay there?” Newt asked, interrupting his thoughts with a brush of his fingers. “You looked like you were havin’ some deep thoughts.”

“Well, they weren’t ‘forty two’,” Alby replied. “I was just thinking about what you said. Yeah, yeah, it’s fine. Makes sense to prioritise other things, and spend our time together less stressfully. Speaking of, what do you want to do this afternoon? Though I do want to make sure you do _some_ studying today, even if I have to stand over you to make you do it.”

Newt pulled a face briefly. “Hmm. I dunno, thought we could just explore the town a bit. I need to get a birthday present for my dad at some point, but it’s not very urgent.”

“Good that,” Alby agreed without thinking, then grimaced. Newt just laughed.

So they wandered the streets around the coffee shop for a while, window-shopping and chatting while their fingers clung happily together. As the day warmed up from its less-than-promising start, Alby pulled Newt into a department store and took him to the hat section.

“I’m fine, really.”

“I don’t want you getting sunstroke, or burned. You have to be careful when you’re used to living in a damp rock like Britain,” Alby smiled, picking out a large-brimmed white straw hat, with a pastel blue ribbon tied around the bowl and trimming the edge. The wide circumference would shade his shoulders too, and may or may not have been taken from the less-masculine side of the hat rack.

“It’s even worse in Wales,” Newt agreed, looking the hat over. “I do have hats already, you know.”

“I know. But what do you think of this one?”

“It’s very pretty.” Newt settled it carefully atop his crown of hair and adjusted it in one of the mirrors, looking himself over critically. He reached under it and carefully unpinned his hair, tucking the hairgrips into his rucksack, letting it swing in a loose plait down his back. He adjusted the hat some more, then grinned at Alby. _Beautiful_ , Alby thought, and hoped he didn’t look like a soppy idiot. “Good choice, I really like it.”

“It suits you,” Alby shrugged, a little embarrassed at himself. “Do you want it?”

“Nah, you paid for lunch, I’ll buy it.”

“I could get it as a present, if you like.”

Newt looked like he wanted to disagree, stubborn as always, then studied Alby’s face. Alby shrugged again and rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks heating. Newt lightly rested his hand on Alby’s arm and squeezed, fingers rubbing up and down gently.

“You’re ridiculously sweet,” Newt said fondly. “I’ll have to get you somethin’ too, you realise. As an official gift-exchange on our sixth date.”

Alby grinned with him. “Okay, okay,” He conceded, resting his palm along Newt’s cheek for a moment.

“Right, let me find you something.” Newt quickly kissed his palm then set off, searching along the racks. Alby stayed by the hats, wondering what Newt was going to find for him. He watched the white hat zip along until he lost sight in the more crowded sections. At length, Newt returned with his hands behind his back and a triumphant look on his face. He brought his hands out and held them up for Alby’s inspection.

It was a bracelet. A metallic rope-like chain with glass and ceramic beads threaded along it, in dove grey, creamy white, dark purple and black swirly designs.

“Too on the nose?” Newt fretted.

“I love it,” Alby said quietly, earnestly. “I think it’s worth a bit more than the hat, though.”

“Not all that much. Besides, you keep trying to treat me to things. Let me treat you for a change, yeah?”

“If you really insist.”

“Course I do. C’mon, let’s get these rung up and go, we could lounge around the park a bit if it stays sunny.”

It stayed sunny for them, and they found a park bench to sit on and watch the world go by for a little while. Newt had removed the tags and put the hat on as soon as they were out of the store, and Alby had done the same with the bracelet. He spun the little beads on the chain absently with the fingers not occupied being wrapped around Newt’s.

“Secretly an author,” Newt said in a low tone, watching a frowning man walking by in a smart suit. “Hates his desk job at the bank or whatever, writes erotic romances about pirates in his coffee breaks.”

“What?”

“That man,” Newt smiled, nodding at the guy now heading out of sight. “What do you think? It’s a game Tommy said he plays at work.”

“Oh, okay.” He thought for a while, watching his retreating back. “Hmm, no. I reckon he has one of those city-allotments where he goes to relax before heading home, he was going off to check on the fall blooms.”

“Hmm,” Newt smiled. “A tie, I think. Though someone here has to write erotic romances in their coffee breaks, statistically speaking.”

“I’m sure someone does,” Alby smiled. “And you’ll win the point when it’s actually someone who looks the type.”

“Pff. As if there’s a type. Okay, you start the next one.”

Alby looked around the park and discreetly nodded to a lady reading on the grass, hair in dreads and wrapped up in a pale green sash, her dress spread around her on the bank. “Okay. She’s on break from her job at the local library. She secretly hates kids and can’t stand all the students who come in when the college library doesn’t have something in stock.” He nudged Newt, who grinned. “If she had her way she’d implement her own system, because screw Dewey and his boring decimals.”

Newt laughed. “Wow, okay. My turn. Hmm. She’s an English teacher who always wanted to do animation or art or something at college, but her family pushed her to do something ‘more easily employable’ and she went for teaching. She doesn’t hate it but she’s working on her stuff online, and has a bit of a fan following. She’s considering whether to start taking commissions, but she’s nervous she’s too under-trained to deliver the right quality.”

“Cool. I like yours better.”

“Thanks,” Newt said, swinging his legs briefly. “Right, that pair of teenagers over there.” He was about to list off a story, when he noticed they were conferring together excitedly and seemed to be heading over right to them.

“Subscribers?” Alby supplied for him, watching them too. “Yours or mine, d’you think?”

“I dunno. Do you want to stop…?” He brushed his fingers over Alby’s hand.

“I’m okay if you are. They might not even be coming to us, anyway.”

They watched the pair as they approached. They seemed very excited.

“Wishful thinking,” Newt muttered. They both made sure to smile as the two girls reached them.

“Hi!” One of them said, grinning. “Are you um, are you, um, SalamanderMonarch and AlDynamite?”

“Yeah, are you guys subscribers?” Alby replied with a pleasant smile.

“Oh wow! We saw you and we, we wondered, um, is it okay if we get a picture with you guys? We love your stuff,” The other girl said.

“Sure, no problem,” Newt agreed, standing. “What’re your names?”

“Oh!” One laughed, getting out her phone. “I’m Jess, and this is Kat.”

“It’s always nice to meet subscribers,” Alby said, getting into the pose with them and grinning at the camera screen. “What sort of stuff do you like better?”

“Well, I really like your film reviews,” Jess said after taking the picture. “And your political stuff,” She said to Newt.

“And I love your science bits, and the vlogs, and your game critiques,” Kat said. She seemed a bit more over-awed of the two.

“Thanks, that’s great to hear,” Newt and Alby said in unison, then laughed. “Wow, that’s embarrassing,” Newt added. “We’ve been working on something together actually, should be up in, what do you think, Alby?”

“Maybe next week?” Alby hedged. “We still need to wrap up a few bits and then edit it all together. Next week at the latest, probably.”

“Oh wow!” Jess said excitedly. “Can’t wait for that! How are you liking LA then?” She asked Newt. “If – if that’s okay to ask.”

“I’m really enjoying it, Jess,” Newt smiled, adjusting his hat. “It’s a great city, great people, all that jazz. I’m guessing you guys are locals?”

“Mmhmm, we grew up around here. We’ve kind of seen Al around a bit, but didn’t want to bother you, ‘cause we only saw you when you were like, shopping, and didn’t wanna seem creepy.” She paused. “That sounded super creepy, didn’t it?” She laughed and covered her face, and Kate rubbed her back consolingly.

“It’s okay,” Alby smiled. “Say hey next time.”

“Can I ask something, um, a bit personal?” Kate said, while Jess recovered herself. “When we were heading over, and saw you, um… are you two, er. Together? You totally don’t have to answer that.” As she spoke, Jess took her hand and they both waited anxiously for a reply.

Newt and Alby exchanged a glance, then Newt made a sort of ‘up to you’ gesture. “Er, yes,” Alby said eventually, smiling at them both a little awkwardly. “Just for a little while now. We’d appreciate it if you kept it to yourselves, though, we’re not really ready to announce it or anything.”

“Oh, totally!” Jess said. They both looked overjoyed and nodded eagerly. “We won’t say anything. It just means a lot to have, kind of, role models, you know?” Kate smiled at her fondly. “What I mean is, argh, it’s just nice. Congratulations! And have a great day!”

“You too, both of you,” Newt smiled. “Take care.”

They waved the couple off, then sat back on the bench. “Coast seems clear for now,” Newt said after looking around the park again, smiling.

Alby looked down at his knees. “I’m not ashamed or anything,” He started.

Newt calmly took his hand again. “I know, Alby. I’m not thinking of anythin’ like that. I understand.”

“It’s just… not something I discuss on my channel.”

“I know,” Newt said again, lifting his hand to kiss the backs of his fingers. “I _know_. I’m a lot more open about myself on my channel, put a lot of my life out there because people connect to it and enjoy it and it’s just my style. Your channel is much more professional, with not a lot of private detail. It’s okay, I get it. You don’t need to explain anything.”

“Thanks.”

Newt kissed his hand again, one kiss for each finger, and then another for good measure. Alby took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He leaned into Newt and gently kissed his mouth, squeezing his hand tightly. Newt smiled into him and gave a quiet sigh.

“Okay?” He asked quietly, lightly nudging Alby’s nose with his own.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

“Cool. You wanna go watch a movie?”

“What, at the cinema? There isn’t really anything on right now.”

“I meant more of a DVD,” Newt admitted. “So I could get ridiculously mushy and feed you popcorn.”

Alby laughed, remembering a certain item they’d put on the list a few days ago. “That sounds great to me. And then you’re definitely going to the library.”

“Yes sir,” Newt said mock-seriously, laughing as they walked along.

Later, Alby smiled up at Newt from his position laying across his legs, head in his lap. “So you were serious about that?”

“Mmhmm, deadly,” Newt nodded, picking up a clump of popcorn to the bowl and holding it to Alby’s lips. “Guess the flavour.”

Alby took it and chewed thoughtfully. “Coconut? When did I have coconut anything in my kitchen?”

“I bought some when I was getting the kernels,” Newt admitted with a smile. “You know I hate that microwave crap.”

“Mm, you made a ten minute video on it once.”

“I did?” Newt laughed. “I forgot about that. My dad always used to make us popcorn in a pan when I was little, as a treat on Fridays, and we’d watch a film together.” He smiled fondly. “Anyway, while you were setting this up, I did a few batches of different flavours and mixed them all up.”

“Exciting,” Alby said, raising his head a little to kiss Newt’s sweetened fingertips. “As long as there’s no jalapeno oil or whatever.”

“No, they’re all sweet flavours. Is the DVD set up?”

“Mmhmm, I thought it was maybe a Ghibli kind of afternoon. Have you seen _Nausicaa_ before?”

“No,” Newt said, intrigued. He ate a handful of the popcorn then got some more for Alby. “I’m all settled, let it roll.”

Alby made sure he was comfy pillowed in Newt’s lap and able to see the screen, then pressed play. As they watched, Newt rested one hand behind Alby’s head and the other fed him popcorn of coconut, white chocolate and cinnamon flavours, the lower half of the bowl a pleasant mix of all three. And when the popcorn was gone, he kissed the flavouring from Newt’s fingertips and they curled up together.

“Sweet little resistance bugs,” Newt said as the credits rolled.

“What?”

“Ohms. They’re units of electrical resistance.”

Alby just smiled and kissed his cheek; science had never been his strong suit at school, physics less so. He’d always been more interested in the media equipment, with his little group of film and photography friends. They’d usually been able to borrow cameras and they’d made short, very unfunny films that they all thought were hysterical at the time. They were cute to look back on. He made another mental note to chase up a few of those guys, see if they were busy in the next few weeks. They hadn’t all met up in about a year.

“Can we watch another one?” Newt asked.

Alby checked the clock – it was getting on for five. “Do you have your textbooks with you?”

Newt pulled a face.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Okay, if you do two hours of reading, we’ll watch another one when you’re done.”  

Newt made another sour face, and Alby squeezed his arms tightly around him. “That means you can stay for dinner.”

That cheered him up.

Newt settled on the couch, legs over the armrests, surrounded by cushions and with a cup of fresh coffee by his side, an enormous textbook in his lap with a pad of paper across it and a pen tucked behind his ear. Alby smiled at the sight and occupied himself with starting to edit together all the individual clips of footage and of them talking, and the pure audio files for voiceover sections for the video. He laboured over every minute of it, made sure everything was synced and timed and cued as precisely as matched the vision in his head. It would take some time to be really finished, but he had what he considered a ‘rough’ version of the first five minutes, and an even rougher version with the clips pasted together in the general correct order, audio files stacked after each other chronologically for more fidgety work later, by the time his phone pinged to remind him to start cooking.

He looked over to check on Newt, and saw him engrossed in the textbook, sheafs of scrawled-on paper folded over the top of the pad as he made notes. Rather than disturb him when he was actually studying productively, he went to his little kitchen and closed the door carefully, mindful of how the hinges squealed if it wasn’t done at just the right speed. He checked through his fridge and freezer, pulling out whatever seemed to be good for a meal, and started throwing it all together. He wasn’t all that stressed over cooking for Newt – it didn’t count as a date, as far as he was concerned. It was just a meal, and he knew he could cook it well. Just for a bit of noise, he went to YouTube on his tablet and found a playlist he liked to listen to when cooking.

_“What’s up guys, welcome to the Frying Pan. You can call me Fry, and today I’m gonna be showin’ you how to make your own goddamn tomato-based pasta sauce. From fresh, all good stuff, and way better than whatever you can find in a jar. And it’s super easy and cheap, too, you’ll be wonderin’ why you ever went store-bought. You’ll need the followin’ ingredients…”_

Just as he was ready to serve up, he heard a knock and opened the kitchen door curiously. Newt was standing outside, looking hopeful.

“You didn’t need to knock,” Alby said, bemused. “I didn’t want the noise to disturb you.”

“Is it almost ready? It smells great.” Newt said, peering around Alby to try and see what he was cooking.

“Pretty much. How’s the reading going?”

“All done.”

“That’s great. And we can definitely watch a film after dinner then,” Alby smiled.

“Yeah, yeah,” Newt grumbled with a smile. “You’re worse than my dad about school work.”

“Hey, at least I’ll reward you with movies and hugs.”

“True,” Newt smiled. “C’mon, let’s eat, I’m starving.”

Alby chased him out of the tiny kitchen and brought out their plates to the table.

“This is amazing.”

“Thanks. I get a lot of recipes from a YouTuber I follow, he does all these tutorials for loads of things, all graded for time and difficulty and expense and availability of ingredients. He’s really good, and very funny. He shows you how to do everything, and what it should look like at each stage, and how to time stuff.” Alby said. “I’ll send you a link. I’ve learned a lot from him since I moved out, actually.”

“Could you not cook very well when you moved out?”

“More that I knew how to cook certain things very well. But having a six-meal repertoire gets pretty boring when you’re cooking them week in, week out. My parents tried to teach me, but they were never all that interested in cooking themselves. When we were growing up it was always just what was fast and easy to make after work.” Alby shrugged. “All nice meals, and I love them a lot, but you know. Variety and all that.”

“How’s the family doing?” Newt asked through a mouthful.

“All good, last time we spoke. Work’s stressful for them both, with school back from holidays. My older sister’s just started senior year, that’s a big deal. Younger ones are all scrambling through middle and high school as you’d expect. And my brother’s started a new job, that’s good. Office work, but it pays better than his old one, so he doesn’t mind so much.”

“That’s good,” Newt smiled.

“And you? How’s your dad?”

“Oh he’s grand, skyped with the lot of them the other night. Gran and Grandad are fine, complaining as usual but happy enough, though dad said it’s driving him up the wall. Also as usual,” Newt smiled. “I dunno how that house don’t explode sometimes from the three of them yellin’ at each other. All lovingly, ‘course. They’re never actually angry with each other.”

“Great,” Alby chuckled. “How about some ice cream?”

“Abso-fuckin’-lutely.”

Two DVDs and an unhealthy amount of ice cream later, Alby looked down and saw Newt had fallen asleep curled up in his lap. He smiled and fondly brushed hair off his forehead, and unbraided it for him. He gently stroked Newt’s cheek until he stirred. “Newt. Hey, Newt. Wake up a sec.”

“Nnrgh?”

“Not the best place to fall asleep.”

“Nnrgh.”

Alby squeezed him gently, heart thudding a bit. “You can crash with me tonight, if you want.”

“That’d be nice,” Newt yawned.

“Not on the couch.”

Newt blinked. “Extra nice.”

Alby kissed his forehead, then helped him get up. Newt winced when he got to his feet. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just my leg. Can I borrow some PJs?”

“Sure.” Alby led him into the bedroom and flicked on the light, making them both squint. They both looked at the bed. “Um,” Alby said, heart going a bit faster as he wondered if he’d have to set some ground rules.

“Spooning’s on the list, right?” Newt yawned again, though he didn’t seem as sleepy as he pretended. “Would that be okay?”

Alby nodded, relieved, and started clearing some space in his messy room for them both to walk around. He handed some pyjamas to Newt and stacked some books and papers and CDs up neatly on his bedside table, trying to bring order to the room. When he turned around, Newt had put on the spare tee and was sitting on the end of the bed, frowning down at his hands.

“Are you okay?”

Newt rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I’m gonna have to take off my leg to sleep.”

“Oh, right, of course. That’s fine.”

“I…” Newt sighed. “I don’t really like people touching it, or the wraps, or whatever.”

Alby sat down beside him tentatively. “That’s okay, Newt. I’ve got my boundaries, you’ve got yours. Is there anything else you want me to know? I want you to be comfortable.”

Newt chewed the inside of his cheek for a bit. “When it’s off, don’t touch the stump either. And don’t stare. I mean, please.”

“Your body, your boundaries,” Alby said firmly, and kissed his temple. “Whatever you need. Do you want the open side of the bed, so you can get to the bathroom and stuff in the night?”

“I’d appreciate that.” Newt said tightly, tapping his knees.

“Okay. I’m gonna turn around and get changed, if that’s alright.”

Newt nodded. Alby did as he’d said, taking a bit extra time to look through his wardrobe as he heard Newt attending to his leg.

“D’you have any moisturiser I could use?” Newt asked after a couple of minutes. His voice was strained. “It chafed a bit today.”

“Sure, I’ll get it,” Alby replied and fetched it from the bathroom without turning around. When he returned to the bedroom, Newt was fully changed and was carefully rolling up the vacant pant leg, his prosthetic propped up against the bedside table. He saw a clean, old scar on the skin just below the knee joint and made sure not to give it any more than a glance as he handed the jar to Newt.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” Alby climbed behind him into the wall-side of the bed and arranged the pillows for them, still a bit nervous about sharing a bed together. Sure, they’d shared that time at Minho’s, but that had been facing away from each other, and Newt had sorted his leg when the lights were out. This time, they’d be in the bed _together_ , if that was any meaningful distinction. It felt different to Alby, anyway. More intimate than he’d been planning for just yet.

But he felt cheered by the fact Newt hadn’t asked him to turn out the lights before undressing and taking off his prosthetic, and had told Alby his boundaries, rather than keeping it to himself. It was a show of trust, and Alby felt warmed by it, his own nervousness fading in the wake of that knowledge.

Newt leaned over to put the jar on the bedside table, then sat for a moment, hands clenching in the covers. Alby stayed quiet. When he was ready, he scooted back to join Alby, smiling nervously.

“Okay?” Alby asked quietly.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Can you turn the lights out from here?”

Alby reached up to the cord dangling from the ceiling and tugged, so that the only light was whatever seeped in from the streetlight under the edges of his blinds. It made a sort of buttery slatted pattern across the bed and wall, not so bright as to be unpleasant.

“Nice.”

“I read in bed a lot, it gets annoying having to unwrap from all the sheets and blankets and whatever and wake yourself up all over again.”

“Mm.”

They were quiet for a few breaths, laying together under the covers, each nervous in his own way.

“Can I come closer?” Alby asked quietly.

“Mmhmm.”

Rustling as Newt rolled onto his side, away from Alby. Alby swallowed, told himself to relax, then turned as well and shifted closer until they were almost touching. Tentatively, he leaned in and laid an arm over Newt’s waist, reaching up to his chest. He could feel Newt’s frantic heartbeat for a few seconds, until Newt took his hand and shuffled backwards into him. Alby caught his breath and pressed a small kiss almost furtively to the back of Newt’s neck. The tense set of his shoulders slowly relaxed, and as they adjusted to being so close, they sorted out which limbs were going where, and what felt most comfortable. They squeezed each other’s hands tightly until their nervousness faded, unneeded. This was alright, this was nice. There was nothing sexual in it, and Alby had no intention of touching Newt anywhere below his waist.

Alby kissed the back of his neck again once they were settled, and Newt sighed, body finally relaxing back into Alby’s, his back and hips pressed back against Alby’s chest and stomach as they curled around each other.

“Did you set an alarm?” Newt whispered drowsily.

“Mmhmm, you won’t be late tomorrow.”

“Thanks. Goodnight, Alby. Thank you.”

“Goodnight, Newt. Thank you too.”

Newt squeezed his fingers again, shuffled until he was quiet comfortable, and they both dozed off, warm and secure.


	9. Bucket o' Feels

TW: Discussion of Suicide, Self-Harm and Bullying

* * *

 

Thomas shook out his tingling legs as he stepped out of Minho’s shower. They’d pushed it hard that morning, now Thomas was able to do the whole run without collapsing. They had done the same route, but with more stretches and exercises afterward, and Minho had made him run up and down some stairs for a full five minutes just for fun, and his legs were suffering. He rubbed a towel over his hair and stretched them out, hoping the soreness would fade soon enough for him to get to campus for his shift with Brenda. As he was getting dressed, he noticed himself in the mirror now the steam was ebbing. He paused in pulling on his jeans and stepped back to see more of himself, vaguely surprised at his reflection.

He had been in shape before coming to LA, or at least not _out_ of shape. He’d gone for gentle runs most mornings, and had been generally healthy and athletic through school. But now… he poked at his stomach and pinched the skin. The softer areas on his frame, bits of evidence of the student life and junk food and not pushing himself terrifically hard on his runs back home, little pockets of harmless flab and leftover puppy weight – they seemed to be gone. He pinched the skin and found it firm and tight around his stomach and hips. He didn’t suddenly have a six-pack or the body of a muscleman like Minho, but there was a definite tightness about him now. His chest and stomach were flat and much more defined, and his shoulders seemed broader from losing just little bits of softness from elsewhere. His arms had put on a bit of muscle, he found, a bit more responsive roundness in his biceps. _Must be all those exercises Minho insists on,_ he thought. His legs were definitely more muscular, he could even see the lines defining his quads and calf muscles. He turned to see his back – it looked much stronger. And his butt was definitely looking better.

“Oh my god,” he muttered, pulled on his jeans and found Minho in the kitchen. “Look at this!”

Minho turned around from the stove and looked him over. “What is it? Did you forget a shirt or something?”

“No,” Thomas rolled his eyes and spread his arms. “I’ve lost weight, and I’m really in shape now. Look at this nonsense.” He gestured at his stomach.

Minho looked as instructed and smiled. “Yep. I told you, I know how to do my job.”

“I’ve even put on muscle! My legs look ridiculous.”

“I noticed. What, you haven’t seen your legs recently?” Minho grinned. “How do you get dressed in the morning?”

“Stop that,” Thomas said, starting to smile with him. “It just took me by surprise, I hadn’t really noticed. Thanks, Minho. It’s all your horrible run drills and meal plans.”

“Damn straight,” Minho said smugly. “And you’re welcome. Though you’ve done really well sticking to it. I’ve had so many run partners just give up and quit after a couple of days. And you know you don’t _have_ to do the same meals as me, they’re full of protein for gains.”

“I know,” Thomas smiled. “It just makes more sense, seeing as I’m usually hanging around these days.”

“You’re turning into a permanent houseguest, you know,” Minho grinned, not looking at all annoyed by the fact. “But you’ve got a way to go yet, sunshine.” He lifted up his own shirt just high enough to show off his sickeningly toned and muscular abs.

“Jesus.”

“You can just call me Minho,” He replied with a lazy, overconfident smile. “Anyway, look after breakfast for me, I’m gonna shower.”

“Sure,” Thomas said, absently raising a hand as Minho passed him. They slapped palms with a shared grin and Minho walked into the bathroom.

“Put your shirt on, you exhibitionist,” He called, and Thomas felt it fly into the back of his head.

“Stop throwing things at me,” He called back as he pulled it on.

“Only when you can throw them back just as far,” Minho teased, then closed the door. Thomas smiled down at the porridge and took up the spoon to stir it, listening to the water hiss through the pipes and the dimly muted sounds of Minho moving around. He got their breakfast together and hummed contentedly under his breath.

A little time later Minho emerged from the bathroom and joined him in the kitchen, one hand lightly resting on Thomas’ back. “How’s that coming along?”

“Pretty good,” Thomas smiled. “Should be ready soon. I did your shake.”

“Aw, thanks man,” Minho grinned. As he sipped it he made up tea for Thomas, with just the right amount of milk and sugar, without needing to ask. “So what’s your plan today?”

They carried the food and drinks through to the table and sat down together. “I’m on shift with Brenda this morning, then the rest of the day is classes and studying. How about you?”

“Same as usual,” Minho smiled, drizzling honey into his porridge. “I’m gonna do a couple of hours recording. I know I’m a bit behind the wagon, but I’m gonna start doing The Last Of Us now I’ve finished Bloodborne. And some more older games too, might do some Silent Hill or something.”

“You sound excited,” Thomas smiled over his tea.

“I like starting new things,” Minho said with a shrug. “New adventures, new stories and whatnot. And then off to work, I’ve got the usual aerobics class and I’ve got a few people wanting personal coaching.”

“Wow, how many? Are you doing a group session?”

“About four, at the minute. We’ll see what they need, they’re all comin’ in to do a general health assessment, then I’ll work out with them when would be the best times for their individual sessions. Some people just want a dedicated helper in the gym, and some people want a coach to run with them, help them with meals, planning out their day, all that stuff.”

Thomas paused in eating his bacon. “Would that mean we can’t go running anymore?” He asked, hating how uncertain his voice sounded.

Minho looked up from his own plate. “Oh, man. I don’t know. Probably not, don’t worry about it. Usually when I’ve had these clients before, they adjust to my schedule as well, and I’m only scheduled to work in the afternoons to evenings and some weekend shifts, they know I don’t do mornings. Hey, don’t worry about it, Thomas. It’s all good.”

Minho smiled reassuringly at him. Thomas nodded and carried on eating, a little knot of anxiety under his collarbone. They finished their meal quietly.

When they were done, Minho took up their plates and dumped them in the kitchen. Then he turned and stood by Thomas, who hadn’t moved from his seat. He gently rested his hands on Thomas’ shoulders.

“Hey,” He said quietly. “Don’t worry about it. I’d much rather go running with you than a client, you’re way more fun and you can keep up to _my_ schedule.” He squeezed lightly. “Okay?”

Thomas looked up to meet his eyes and smiled, the knot unravelling a little. “Okay. Sorry. I just – I really enjoy going running with you, and hanging out like this. I haven’t had a friend like you in a long time, and I don’t want to lose that.” He hesitated. “Uhh. That sounded really soppy and stupid, didn’t it.”

“Don’t bail out, dude,” Minho grinned. “Carry that shit to the finish line.” He squeezed again and patted Thomas’ arms. “And hey, I feel the same. I really like having you around, Stringbean.”

“Knock it off,” Thomas grinned back, a little embarrassed but pleased. “Though if you’re feeling handsy, you should definitely give me a backrub sometime ‘cause damn, that feels nice up there.”

Minho laughed and clapped Thomas on the back. “Sure, just let me know when to get the oils.”

Thomas stayed at the table for a minute, enjoying the warmth on his shoulders left by Minho’s hands, letting it soak into him and burn away that tense knot. It was all going to be fine.

-x-

“And _why_ did I agree to do this with you again?” Brenda asked with a roll of her eyes. “You know this is like, ten years old at this point.”

“Technically only like, two years tops,” Thomas replied, setting out the cardboard takeaway cups on the counter in front of them in two large stacks of fifteen cups each, squashed tightly onto each other to stay as one large cup each. “That’s just old enough to have finished being an actual fad and it’s ripe for a semi-ironic revival.”

“Yikes.”

“And I could never convince anyone to do it with me before. C’mon, you said it would be fun. It’ll only take a minute, and it’s dead in here anyway.”

Brenda took a minute to sigh dramatically and roll her eyes some more. “Okaaaay, fine, whatever,” She drawled, but she couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “You giant meme loser.”

“Yes!” Thomas grinned. “Okay, Jorge, got the phone ready?”

“Ready and waiting,” Jorge replied, shaking his head in amusement. “What the hell is your background picture here, Thomas?”

Thomas thought for a minute, trying to keep a straight face. It was a screencap from one of Minho’s videos, where he was pulling a particularly weird face while screaming during a jumpscare and half-falling off his chair. It made him laugh every time he unlocked his phone, and annoyed the fuck out of Minho. “Nevermind that, Jorge. Ready to record?”

“Ready to roll, _hermano._ I still get a free seasonal drink for this, right?”

“Yep, one ‘fall season’ specialty drink coming right up after this. Ready, Brenda? You remember the words and the movements?”

Brenda tsked, lightly bumping his hip. “Duh. D’you think I lived under a rock in 2013 or something?”

“Maybe a nice little rock garden, I dunno,” Thomas grinned. “Okay, all ready in three, two…”

Jorge nodded and pressed Record. Thomas took up his stack of cups. “ _I got my ticket for the long way round, two bottle of whiskey for the way. And I sure would like some sweet company, and I’m leaving tomorrow, whaddya say?”_ He grinned quickly at Brenda as he sang, cup clapping on the counter in time with his hands. “ _When I’m gone, when I’m gone, you’re gonna miss me when I’m gone. You’re gonna miss me by my hair, you’re gonna miss me everywhere, oh, you’re gonna miss me when I’m gone._ ”

Jorge panned the camera to Brenda, who took over with an easy confidence and a sweet alto. “ _When I’m gone, when I’m gone, you’re gonna miss me when I’m gone. You’re gonna miss me by my walk you’re gonna miss me by my talk, oh, you’re gonna miss me when I’m gone._ ” She took a quick breath, her hands never faltering as she turned and clapped the cup on the counter. “ _I got my ticket for the long way round, the one with the prettiest of views. It’s got mountains it’s got rivers it’s got sights to give you shivers, and it sure would be prettier with you._ ”

She smiled at Thomas and he joined in on the next chorus, their hands moving in perfect synchronisation and their voices harmonising. “ _When I’m gone, when I’m gone, you’re gonna miss me when I’m gone. You’re gonna miss me by my hair, you’re gonna miss me everywhere, oh, you’re gonna miss me when I’m gone._ ”

They smacked their cups firmly down on the counter and grinned at each other, breaking into laughter after a moment when Jorge pressed Stop.

“Nicely done,” Jorge laughed, and handed Thomas back his phone.

Brenda punched him half-jokingly in the shoulder. “You’re such a _dork_ , Thomas,” She laughed. “Wow, I can’t believe you’re gonna put that up on the internet. So lame.”

“Thanks for agreeing to it,” He laughed back.

“You actually have a really nice voice,” She said. “Do you sing a lot?”

Thomas shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck. “In the shower or when I’m cooking, I guess. Nothing serious.”

“Huh,” She said consideringly. “I’m just surprised the cups didn’t spill out everywhere during all that.”

“Hey, hey, where’s my free drink?” Jorge asked, leaning up on the counter. “I’m a busy man, you know.”

“You don’t have anything to do for the next hour, that’s why you agreed to this,” Brenda laughed, setting about making his drink.

“I’m still a busy man,” He smiled. He looked between Thomas and Brenda, then signed something to her that made her blush and reply with an emphatic shake of her head. She signed back, and even Thomas recognised the sign for ‘no’, and he only knew a few very basic bits of ASL. He didn’t ask, instead opting to go out and clean the tabletops again while they chatted. It was obviously a private conversation, and he didn’t want to intrude.

“Anyway,” Jorge said after a few minutes. “I’m off. Thanks for the free drink, have a good shift. See you in class later, Brenda.”

“Sure thing, and thanks again,” Thomas said as they waved him off.

“So how are things with Teresa?” Brenda asked, affecting a casual tone of voice.

“Huh? Oh, the usual,” Thomas replied, a bit taken aback by the sudden change of topic. He saved the video on his phone to upload to his Instagram account later. “When I know I’m gonna be seeing her, in class or whatever, it’s all fine. But she’s still kinda touchy and I don’t know if I’m comfortable with that.”

“You should say something to her. She seems really nice, I’m sure she wouldn’t be upset.”

“Yeah, she’s really nice,” Thomas sighed, missing Brenda’s smile when she spoke. “And super pretty and smart.”

“I hope she comes by here again when we’re on shift,” Brenda said.

“So you can laugh at my awkwardness?”

“Something like that,” Brenda grinned. “Now look sharp, decaffeinated students ahoy.”

Thomas sighed and got back to work.

-x-

Thomas closed the dorm door behind him heavily and dumped his books on the end of his bed, not really looking forward to going to class in an hour. He’d just finished his shift with Brenda, and his run that morning was catching up to him. He felt exhausted and like his limbs were made of jelly. He wasn’t exactly thinking clearly and was contemplating taking a brief nap, when the covers of Newt’s bed moved suddenly, and he banged into the wall from the force of his jump.

“Whoah. Newt, are you in there? Or is that Alby?” He asked half-jokingly.

Newt tugged the covers down to reveal his head. He was flushed and his hair was ruffled from being under the covers, and he looked miserable. “Hey, Tommy. Just me.”

“Didn’t you go to class this morning? Are you sick?”

“Mmnh.”

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“It’s a _mmnnhhhh._ ”

Thomas pursed his lips for a minute, then perched on Newt’s bed. “C’mon, are you sick? Is something going on? You and Alby didn’t break up, did you?”

“No, we’re fine. I don’t have the flu.” Newt muttered, turning his face more into the pillow.

“Look, Newt, you’re starting to really worry me. What’s wrong? You never miss class.”

Newt blew the hair out of his eyes. “It’s the anniversary today.”

Thomas sat for a moment, appalled at himself. “Oh, shit. I’m really sorry, I forgot that was today. Are you – well, you’re obviously not okay. Is there anything I can do?”

“No. I’m okay.”

“You’re very clearly not. You never miss class and you never sleep in past like, ten. It’s nearly two. Have you had anything to eat today?”

Newt shook his head. “I just want to sleep so this day is over.”

Thomas grabbed a water bottle and an energy bar and plonked them down in front of Newt’s face. “Go on.”

Newt scowled at him but sat up a bit and did as he was told, chewing woodenly through the bar and drinking most of the water bottle. Just as he was done, his phone on the desk buzzed. They both looked at it for a minute.

“You want me to get that?”

“Mmnh.”

Thomas got it anyway. “You have fifteen unread messages from Alby.” He set the phone down on the covers as well. “Look, I want to respect your privacy about this, but you’re obviously not feeling good at the minute and not looking after yourself. Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Okay. Will you at least look at your messages from Alby? He must be worried about you to send fifteen texts.”

“Okay,” Newt sighed. As he flicked through the messages, he tried to swallow the dead feeling in his mouth and bury the weight in his chest. He’d intended to make this anniversary different from the other years of lying around at home depressed, remembering every detail of that day over and over, and all the things that had driven him to it. That awful night lying on the pavement, shattered and broken but still alive and feeling like the worst kind of desperate fool. He didn’t want to obsess over his time in the hospital, the lengthy process of rehabilitation, therapy and getting used to the prosthetic. And yet here he was, in bed, miserable, and obsessing just as much as ever.

_From: Albae_

_Hey, I know it’s a really tough day 4 u, but everythings gonna b ok_

_From: Albae_

_Call if u need me_

_From: Albae_

_I’m not doing anything today if u want me to come over_

_From: Albae_

_Remember ur a wonderful guy and what happened doesn’t define u_

_From: Albae_

_I care so much abt u. Ur so strong. Hang in there._

_From: Albae_

_Its just another day, ur ok_

_From: Albae_

_Getting a bit worried now, how r u doing? Do u need company? Ly x_

_From: Albae_

_Hope ur classes r going ok_

_From: Albae_

_You’ve come so far since it happened, ur amazing and im so happy to have met you and be ur partner, I wouldn’t change u for the world x_

_From: Albae_

_Ily x_

_From: Albae_

_U can do it nootnoot_

_From: Albae_

_Pls text me when u get this, im getting p worried_

_From: Albae_

_Found some cute newt pics [attached: 10 pictures of lizards with funny expressions]_

_From: Albae_

_Ily xx pls text me_

_From: Albae_

_Do u want me to come over?_

Newt felt a tiny smile growing on his lips, a touch of warmth in his chest. Before he could overthink it too much, he sent a reply.

_To: Albae_

_Yes pls. im at my dorms._

Hardly a minute passed before he got a reply.

_From: Albae_

_Omw rn_

He put his phone down. “Alby’s coming over,” He said.

“Okay, I’ll let him into the dorms. Do you want something else to eat?” Tommy replied.

_Not really,_ Newt thought. _But I should or I’ll feel even worse._ He nodded and watched as Tommy scrabbled through their cupboards looking for food. He found some chocolate and put it on the desk.

“How about some soup? Soup always makes me feel better.”

Newt nodded again.

“Okay, I’ll be right back.” He grabbed a mug, a sachet of soup-powder, and left for the shared kitchenette area at the end of the hall.

Newt looked around the empty room, and his eyes settled on his prosthetic, propped up against the end of his bed like always. He stared at it for a while, ignoring the phantom pains and tingles in his stump with difficulty.

_Selfish bugger_.

He shoved that thought away with gritted teeth. He hadn’t gone through years of therapy to get tangled up in _that_ particular guilt complex again. Tommy re-entered with the mug of hot soup just as Newt’s phone buzzed again.

_From: Albae_

_Just outside the dorms now, can u let me in?_

Newt relayed that to Tommy, who sprang up to get him. Newt looked around the room some more, then laboriously shifted his pillows to sit up in bed and held the mug of soup on his lap. He sipped without really tasting it, just grateful for the warmth. He listened as two sets of footsteps came closer, and then Alby and Tommy were stepping through. Alby looked both concerned and relieved, and Newt found a small, tired smile for him.

“Hey, Alby.” He put the mug back on the desk as Alby sat on the bed with him.

“Hey there, Newt.” He folded Newt tightly into his arms and Newt clung to him. “It’s okay,” Alby murmured as Newt buried his head in Alby’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry I didn’t answer your texts, I was asleep mostly. They were really sweet,” He mumbled, eyes prickling.

“It’s okay,” Alby said again, holding him close. Newt felt Alby’s hand on the back of his head. His eyes began to spill. “It’s okay,” Alby kept murmuring as he sobbed quietly. Alby rocked him gently from side to side and Newt clutched at him desperately, knowing Alby understood exactly what he was feeling in a way Tommy simply couldn’t, from not knowing what had happened. He let the guilt, the old memories, the pain of that night as fresh as ever, and the exhaustion of therapy and rehabilitation all escape from the locked-down vault he usually kept them in, flowing free even as his breath grew ragged and his knuckles bleached white from gripping Alby so tight.

Alby kept hold of him, gently rocking, stroking over the back of his head, helping him weather the storm. When he was all dried out, Newt sagged limply against him, hiccoughing quietly and Alby squeezed him carefully, arms wonderfully snug and secure around him.

“Sorry about all this,” Newt mumbled.

“It’s fine,” Tommy and Alby said in unison, sharing a smile.

“Tommy, I’m sorry I didn’t say what today might be like for me. I don’t really like talkin’ about it, but it always gets me like this round the anniversary.”

Tommy shrugged and shifted on his own bed. “It’s your business. It’s alright.”

Newt sat back a little from Alby, who settled an arm around his back and held his hand. “I want to tell you, though. You’ve been great about respectin’ my boundaries, but I want you to know. At least so I don’t have to explain another time.”

Newt took a deep breath and leaned into Alby’s shoulder. “When I was younger, at school, I was bullied a lot. For a long time. I knew I was gay when I was about fourteen, but I kept it to myself. I was scared, we all know what school’s like. And I started realisin’ I wanted to wear girly clothes sometimes, or look more feminine. I was having a bit of an identity crisis at the time, wonderin’ if I was trans or just weird. I started paintin’ my nails, growing out my hair, wearing girlier clothes at home. My mum died a few months before I turned fifteen, and that… that was hard to deal with.” He swallowed the tears that welled up again, and Alby squeezed his hand hard. “B-But, she’d always been so supportive of me. Right from the start, when she found me with girl’s clothes I’d bought and hid away in my room. She used to help me with her makeup. She just wanted to me to be happy, she said. And my dad was okay with it. I guess for a while he was too busy helping her to be really bothered by whether I was wearin’ a dress or jeans.”

He paused again to clear his throat. “Anyway. She died. She’d had renal problems all her life, and she was on the list for a transplant, but she wasn’t high enough in time. Me and dad weren’t matches. She died. And I turned fifteen. And when I got back to school, I didn’t want to hide anything. So I got more obvious about myself. I wanted to make her proud, you know?” Newt scrubbed his eyes. “The other kids didn’t really see it like that. So the bullying got worse. I tried tellin’ my teachers, doing all the right things you’re supposed to do, and they pretty much told me to stop dressing like a girl and it would all go away. Like it was my fault they were pickin’ on me, for being such an obvious target.”

Newt clenched his fists in his duvet, the old hurt back in his chest. No one said anything, and Alby gently kissed his temple.

“Anyway. I started my YouTube channel as a way to escape all that. My dad and grandparents were supportive of me, they’re really great. But school was awful. I lost what friends I had. The teachers either didn’t care, let it happen or didn’t do anything meaningful to help. And while I knew my family loved me, and my mum definitely loved me, it’s real hard to hold onto that when everyone in school is sayin’ your mum killed herself out of shame, because of you.” He closed his eyes as tears leaked again. Alby’s arm tightened around him and he felt Tommy come sit down on his other side and started gently rubbing over his back.

Newt tried to get hold of himself, to get the rest of the story out. _Out, damned spot, out._ “So yeah. It was gettin’ pretty bad at school. Long and short of it, I developed a lot of depression and horrible feelings about myself. I started harming. A-And one night I just couldn’t take it anymore. I thought everyone would be better off without me, that my family wouldn’t have to deal with me, that I could escape from it all and see mum again. I went to the far side of town, away from anyone I knew, and jumped off a building.”

He heard Tommy draw in a sharp breath and Alby leaned his head against his own.

“It didn’t kill me, obviously. But I broke a lot of bones. This leg basically shattered.” He patted his stump. “And I was lyin’ there a long time before anyone found me, in a fuckin’ filthy alleyway. They operated and put me in casts, but I got a really bad infection in this leg. Eventually, they had to amputate, or the infection woulda _actually_ killed me. So I lost my leg. I got put into therapy and rehabilitation, and got my prosthetic and physical therapy. I got medication, and I started gettin’ better. I moved schools when I was able to walk again, finished my GCSEs a year late, did my A levels. It was really tough for a long time, but my therapy helped me see there was nothing wrong with me, and helped me with the suicidal and harming urges. I’d come that close to ending it, and I decided I wasn’t going to let assholes _literally_ dictate my life anymore. I got back into my YouTube channel, and started presenting as I wanted, being open about who I am. I found other people like me, and got even closer with my family. I’ve been in recovery for six-ish years now. I’ve come a really long way. But every year, it all comes back, all of that old pain and guilt and _shit_ , and it’s really hard to deal with. But I’m okay. I’m really okay.”

Alby folded him up tight again as he sobbed, and Tommy rubbed over his back some more.

“Newt, oh my God,” Tommy said quietly after a long time. “I had no idea. I’m so sorry you went through all that. Oh my God."

“So now you know,” Newt replied, feeling his mouth twist self-mockingly. “Mystery of the missing leg, solved.”

“Newt,” Alby said very quietly.

Newt sighed. “Sorry. I hate talking about it. But that’s it. I fucking hate this day every year.”

They all sat in silence for a good long while, and under the steadying touch and presence of both his friends, Newt felt his emotions start to even out. It would be okay. He’d got through the past six years, and he’d get through the next. He’d come so far since that scared little girly-boy standing on the roof of a car park, made so much of his life. His mum would be proud. His friends loved him, his boyfriend loved him, his studies were going well, and he was going to be okay.

He looked over at his prosthetic again and smiled very faintly at it. It wasn’t the leg he’d been born with, but it was still _his_ leg, dammit.

“Tomorrow will be easier,” Alby said eventually. Newt leaned into him tiredly and nodded.

“Oh, shit,” Tommy muttered, checking his watch. “My lecture starts in five minutes. Uhh…”

“It’s okay, go to your lecture,” Newt said. “I’m alright.”

“I’ll stay with him,” Alby said, nodding to Tommy.

Tommy looked at him uncertainly for a second, then quickly hugged him around the shoulders. Newt hugged him back, then let him go to dash out the door. Alby sat with him for another few minutes before speaking again.

“What do you want to do? D’you want to go back to sleep?”

“No, I’ve slept way too much. Can we just lay down together for a bit instead?”

“Sure.”

They lay curled into each other on the narrow single bed, sharing breath and warmth. When Newt felt the weight of his past pressing behind his eyes again, he fetched his Kindle from the desk and passed it to Alby.

“Can – can you read to me for a bit? Please? I’ve already got a book open.” He asked, voice shaking.

Alby leaned in closer and kissed him so gently, so carefully. Each brush and press of lips was a silent reassurance and promise. “From the start?” He asked quietly when they parted, wiping away the wetness at the corners of Newt’s eyes.

“Yes, please,” Newt whispered, resting his head on Alby’s shoulder.

Alby cleared his throat and held him close. “Alright. _Chapter One: The Boy Who Lived. Mr and Mrs Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you’d expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious…”_

Newt smiled and closed his eyes. Everything would be okay. 


	10. The Gross-Out Challenge And Q&A

 “Okay, to the left a bit.”

Thomas carefully shuffled the tripod as instructed.

“A bit further.”

“Okay.”

“…More to the right.”

“Are you kidding me, Minho?” Thomas grumbled, moving it back to its original position.

Minho grinned quickly at him. “That’s good, thanks Thomas. Should get all of us on the couch from there. Can you check?”

Thomas rolled his eyes and checked the coverage. “Yep, unless someone falls off the end.”

“Perfect. I’ll bring the light through, just in case. Can you–?”

“Yes, I’ll get the cups out,” Thomas interrupted him, patting his shoulder as he passed. “Relax.”

The doorbell rang just as Minho was adjusting the height of his camera light. “Thomas, can you–?”

“On it,” Thomas called back, already opening the door. He grinned at Alby and Newt, who were standing with their arms around each other’s waists and a bag of shopping in their free hands. “Hey guys.”

“I got the chips,” Alby announced.

“And I got the drinks,” Newt hefted his bag, cans and bottles clanking against each other.

“Cool, you can come in then,” Thomas smiled and held the door open wider.

“Would you’ve left us out here if we’d forgot?” Alby asked.

“Yeah, I’m Minho’s doorman now, didn’t you know? He’s way too busy to check these things himself.” Thomas joked, earning a silent, teeth-bared laugh from Alby.

“I heard that, you dick,” Minho yelled from the living room. “Get your butts in here.”

By the time Thomas had closed the door again and gone through, he found Newt unloading the bags in the kitchen and Minho and Alby were hugging. Just before he turned away to give them some privacy, he overheard some of their quiet exchange.

“…haven’t been around for you recently.” Alby said.

“I get it, I understand. It’s okay.” Minho assured him.

“No, it’s not. I’m sorry. I’ll be around more, I promise.”

Newt smiled at him as he put some of the drinks in the fridge.

“Are you doing okay?” Thomas asked quietly. In the week since Newt’s anniversary they hadn’t seen each other much, both busy with their workloads and prepping for the midterms looming dangerously close on the horizon, and generally whenever they had free time, Newt had been with Alby and Thomas had been with Minho.

Newt smiled and nodded down at the counter. “Yeah, I’m doin’ okay. It’s always a bit rough, but Alby’s been helping me through. Thanks, Tommy.”

Thomas nodded. “If you need anything…”

“I’ll ask, don’t worry.” Newt ruffled his hair with a fond smile. “I’m doin’ much better, it’s okay.”

“Hey, you two,” Alby said, leaning across the counter-come-breakfast bar that separated Minho’s kitchen and living space. “You comin’ through or what?”

They followed him through and crowded around Minho’s desktop, where he was loading something up from a flash drive.

“What’s this?” Thomas asked, leaning on Minho’s shoulders to see the screen better.

“It’s the finished version of our review of Big Hero 6,” Newt announced proudly. “Alby’s gonna upload it tomorrow, and we thought you guys would like to see it first, seein’ as we’ve been neglectin’ you both to film it.”

They watched in near-silence for the full thirty minutes, breaking it only to chuckle at certain points – making Newt and Alby share a pleased smile – or to congratulate a particularly well-made comparison (Thomas) or editing sequence (Minho). Once it was finished, they let the silence sit for a few moments more.

“Well fucking done,” Minho said quietly, a huge grin on his face as he turned to look at Alby. “You really made something special there, guys. Wow.”

“No wonder it took so much time,” Thomas added, clapping Newt on the back. “Nice one.”

“Thanks, that really means a lot,” Alby beamed. “You don’t think it’s too long? I already edited out like, a further ten minutes of interstitials, and lesser points, and bits that just didn’t fit…”

Minho reached up and grabbed Alby’s arm, squeezing firmly. “Alby. C’mon. It’s great. It’s as comprehensive, entertaining and engaging a review you could reasonably ask someone to watch. You’ve already edited it down to make it run smoothly – and hey, me and Thomas weren’t bored at all. If someone doesn’t want to watch the full span of it, then they’re not interested in what you’ve got to say anyway, and nothin’ can really change that. You’ve done an amazing job. Now quit worrying, have a drink, and let’s play some Smash, yeah?”

They decamped to the couch and got drinks while Minho checked yet again that all the recording equipment from his little room was set up properly around the TV and couch, that all the wires were in the right place for the capture, that all the controllers worked, that the mics were positioned right, that the camera was fully charged…

“Minho, sit your ass down already,” Alby laughed.

“Alright, alright,” Minho smiled, pressed Record, and settled himself in between Thomas and Alby, Newt on Alby’s other side. He cleared his throat and assumed a wide grin. “Hey guys, what’s up, it’s Minho! And a couple of special guests – my good friends AlDynamite, SalamanderMonarch and GreenbeanSnappea. Or Alby, Newt and Thomas for short. Thought we’d get together and record some Smash for you guys, maybe some Mario Kart after if we really feel like destroying each other! Ready boys?”

“You’re on – Oh fuck you!” Alby laughed. “You _know_ I always play as Luigi.”

“And so it begins,” Minho grinned, having already selected Luigi.

“I’m Mega Man,” Newt said.

“Villager,” Thomas grinned.

“Fine, I’ll be… Kirby. I’m gonna destroy you, Minho.”

Several hours of excited yelling, asshattery and enough swearing that Minho knew he’d have to spend hours carefully bleeping the worst bits, they turned off the equipment and camera.

“Oh man,” He sighed, voice rough and creaky from overuse. “I’m gettin’ another drink. You guys want?”

They gave various tired grunts. “I’ll help,” Newt said, levering himself up from the couch with a sigh.

Alby and Thomas looked at each other for a moment, on their own for the first time. Thomas was abruptly very aware of how little they really knew each other. “So.”

Alby smiled. “So. I hear I’ve got you to thank for Newt’s recent education.”

“Huh? Oh, right. Yeah, I guess. He was so confused, and wanted advice, so…” Thomas shrugged. “Are things – uh. How are things?”

“Things are good,” Alby replied, smiling more broadly. “He really took your advice on board, and he’s trying super hard to understand the ace spectrum, and what being demi means, and all that. So thanks, Thomas.”

“No worries,” Thomas shrugged again, feeling his face heating. He was still a little in awe that he _knew_ AlDynamite sometimes, and that he was so similar to how he was on-screen.

“It’s kinda nice to know there’s another ace person around, y’know?”

Thomas smiled. “Yeah, it’s good to know there’s someone nearby who can relate to that sort of stuff.”

“Would you want to do a video together sometime?” Alby asked. “I’ve been wanting to make a critique specifically about hypersexualisation, with insight from an ace perspective, but I never feel I really… I just think it would be better with a range of opinions from different people on the ace spectrum, y’know?”

Thomas was both surprised and flattered. “Wow, Alby. Wow. That would – I’d love that, I really would. And you’re just “as ace” as me, you’re qualified to do it on your own. But yeah, I’d really like to do that with you.”

“Awesome,” Alby grinned, squeezing his shoulder. “I still need to come up with which series or films to do it on, but I can definitely get started on that.”

“I’ll text you any titles I think of, as well,” Thomas grinned back. “That’s super exciting.”

“How are my boys getting along, hm?” Minho said, leaning over the back of the sofa and putting arms around them both.

“We’re fine, Minho,” Alby laughed, reaching up to mess his hair. “We might be doing a video together in the near future.”

“That’s great!” Minho enthused. Thomas couldn’t help but be touched by how genuinely excited Minho was that his friends were getting to know each other. He lightly squeezed Minho’s wrist for just a moment.

“And are you being nice to Newt?” Alby asked in a mock-stern voice.

“Oh he loves me,” Minho said carelessly, grinning wide enough to split his face. “Why wouldn’t he?”

At that moment Newt reappeared, his shirt damp with water and a half-amused, half-annoyed look on his face. “Albyyyyy,” He whined dramatically, resting the back of his hand against his forehead like a distressed actress.  “He threw water at me. I demand satisfaction for my honour.”

“I’m not gonna fight him,” Alby grinned. “Sorry Newt, but look at this guy, he’d pummel me in a second.”

“Hm, fair. You’ll just have to comfort me, then.” With an overly-dramatic sigh, Newt flopped down onto the couch and into Alby’s arms.

Alby dropped a kiss on his forehead and wrapped his arms around him. “Does that repair your honour?”

“It’ll do for now,” Newt smiled up at him, reaching up to pat his cheek. “You can help me out with a collab sometime if you really feel bad.”

“Sure thing, what sort of collab?”

“I dunno really, somethin’ fun and easy was all I was thinking. The ‘would you rather’ or ‘who’s more likely to’ tags, that sort of thing.”

“That’s some pretty serious stuff, Newt. I dunno if I’m ready to take that next-level step with you. I mean, one day it’s doing relationship tags on YouTube, the next we’re getting a pet, and then we might as well be married and writing wills together,” Alby teased, leaning down to kiss him properly.

“You guys are gross. Adorable, but gross.” Minho pitched in. “Don’t get your lovey-dovey mess all over my couch.”

They laughed and separated, making room on the couch for Minho to sit down again. Thomas was privately a little relieved; he’d been about to excuse himself to the toilet if they got any more touchy-feely. When they were all settled again, Minho caught his eye and gave him a tiny wink. Thomas smiled back gratefully after a surprised second. Minho very lightly patted his knee then turned back to face the TV, waiting for the DVD he’d loaded to roll through the ads.

As the evening wound down Thomas found himself falling asleep with his head on Minho’s shoulder, again. He was vaguely aware of Minho’s arm, which had originally rested along the top of the couch and had now slipped down around his shoulders. He decided he was comfy enough there, and without being aware of it, drifted fully asleep.

After some time Newt looked up from his DS, where he and Alby had been quietly visiting each other’s Animal Crossing towns. He smiled fondly – Thomas and Minho had fallen asleep leaning on each other, Minho’s arm around Thomas’ shoulder and cheek resting on his head. They looked very deeply asleep and comfortable. Alby looked at him questioningly and Newt nodded to their friends. Alby looked as well and his expression immediately softened.

“Aw,” He said quietly. “I don’t wanna wake them up.”

“They look really sweet,” Newt smiled. “Do you think they…?”

Alby tilted his head thoughtfully. “I dunno. I know Minho’s very affectionate with his friends, and they’ve been spending a lot of time together.”

“I think they’d be cute together, anyway.”

“Mm,” Alby smiled. “I’ll get them a blanket.”

Alby and Newt carefully tucked a blanket and some pillows around their sleeping friends, then quietly retired to the spare bedroom.

In the morning, Minho woke to find Thomas tucked under his arm and head resting on his chest. There was also a slight wet patch just under his chin. _Ew, Thomas, really._ He looked down at Thomas and felt a smile growing. He hadn’t felt this comfortable to be around someone since getting to know Alby. It didn’t feel like it had around his previous girlfriends or boyfriends, either. It just felt natural to be waking up like this, intimate and easy and comforting.

He sighed, a little embarrassed by the soppiness of that thought, and the movement of his chest stirred Thomas awake.

“Huhn?” He mumbled, yawning. After a moment he seemed to realise where he was and sat up, bright red. “Oh man, I’m sorry. Oh my god.” He wiped his chin with a grimace. “I’m so sorry.”

Minho chuckled quietly, stretching his shoulders and shaking the numbness from his arm. “It’s okay, dude. This shirt’s going in the wash today anyway. Don’t sweat it.”

“Sorry I keep falling asleep on you on these game nights.”

“It’s okay,” Minho smiled. “It’s kinda flattering, really. If you feel bad you can make breakfast, though.”

“It was my turn to make breakfast anyway,” Thomas smiled back, running a hand through his hair. “Seriously, I’m really sorry.”

“And seriously, it’s really fine.”

“You guys are gross. Adorable, but gross,” Alby called from the doorway of the spare room, apparently having woken up just in time to witness. Or maybe he’d been waiting like a creeper, Minho wasn’t totally sure.

“Shut up, Alby,” Minho grinned, throwing a pillow in his direction. “I’m gettin’ a shower.” He ruffled Thomas’ hair on his way past, and after a moment they heard the water hitting the shower floor. Leaving Alby watching Thomas with raised eyebrows while he wiped at his chin, still incredibly embarrassed.

“Well, are you gonna ask my permission?” Alby smiled.

Thomas felt a fresh wave of heat in his face. “It’s really not like that, Alby. And I’m not in denial – it’s just honestly not like that.”

Alby watched him for another minute. Thomas waited for him to make a comment, but he just looked thoughtful. “Okay then, Thomas. What’s for breakfast?”

-x-

“Is Harriet around?” Newt asked, looking around the pub curiously.

“No, she has a project due in tomorrow, she’s doing that instead,” Sonya replied, sipping her drink. “I should really be studying for my midterm, but all those books just do my head in.”

“What are you studying?” Rachel asked, fiddling with her bracelets. “I don’t think I asked before.”

“History for teaching,” Sonya replied with a smile. “So I really brought this on myself, but I’m still allowed to complain, right?”

“Sure,” Newt smiled back. “I mean I’m doing medial engineering, and I don’t half hate all the maths and physics bits most of the time.”

“It’s the same with psychology,” Aris added with a groan. “I love it, but I hate it. Y’know?”

Thomas smiled round at his little group of particular friends, enjoying just listening to them all chat while he ate his burger.

“What does Harriet study?” Aris asked Sonya. “She’s always so busy running this thing I never get to talk to her.”

Sonya smiled fondly down at her own meal, genuine warmth suffusing her normally default-wry expression. “Social studies with a focus on gender and sexuality. Such a nerd, really. Like wow.”

“Super embarrassing, huh?” Newt grinned, gently teasing her.

“ _Super_ embarrassing,” She agreed with a self-mocking laugh.

“How long have you known each other?” Rachel asked. “If that’s okay.”

“Sure, it’s fine,” Sonya shrugged. “We were in school together for years and years, and we’ve been together for… three years now, I think. What date is it… next Tuesday, actually.” Her face broke out into another fond, tender smile for a moment before she laughed and smoothed her hair down, looking self-conscious. “Oh wow, that’s disgusting. Let’s talk about something else.”

Thomas sat back and listened to them all chat for another while, simply enjoying the respite from the stress of studying. The pub was pleasantly noisy with other students having similar breaks, and he had come to really enjoy the atmosphere of these LGBT meetings. Although he’d been apprehensive about them at first, he could really appreciate the differences between these meetings meant only for students within a certain age range (though he and Newt still qualified, even if they _were_ some of the oldest students there) rather than the free-for-all ones he’d experienced back home had been. It felt much safer, being around people in his age group, and more relaxing as there wasn’t a chance of someone twenty years older than you hitting on you in the bathroom.

_And speaking of bathrooms…_ He excused himself and headed over there. But just as he was coming close to the doors, he heard voices and stopped awkwardly, not wanting to interrupt but still really needing to pee.

“…can’t do it,” a girl said, voice husky with tears.

“You can, it’s all fine,” a boy replied quietly in a soothing voice.

Alarm bells started ringing. Rachel and Aris. _I should really just sit back down._

“I feel so… I don’t feel right,” Rachel said, and Thomas heard Aris making shushing sounds.

“I know, we all get those bad days. But you look amazing, you hear? I really love your hair today. It looks so pretty. I mean, you _always_ look really pretty. You’re beautiful.”

_Whoah, should definitely sit down now Thomas._

“You think so?” Rachel asked quietly. “Even with my nose and jaw, a-and…”

“You’re the most beautiful girl I know,” Aris replied warmly. “Absolutely gorgeous. No matter what anyone else thinks or says.”

Luckily Thomas noticed the disabled toilet was set off to the side and vacant. He dodged inside quickly before he heard anything else, feeling guilty about using it but not wanting to interrupt them in the middle of such a sweet conversation.

When he sat back on the couches he noticed they’d made it back before him. And while Rachel’s mascara was a little smudged, she was smiling, and they seemed to be holding hands under the table. He hid his smile in his drink and pretended, like everyone else, he wasn’t one hundred percent aware of it.

-x-

Minho settled on his couch and made sure his tablet, with all the questions ready, was within easy reach. “I’m gonna start recording in a minute, you sure you’re okay working there?”

“Yep,” Thomas replied, sitting on the floor across the room with books and paper spread all around him, out of shot. “I’m good.”

“Well okay, if you’re sure it won’t disturb you.”

“I have complete zen focus right now,” Thomas said, storing a highlighter in his mouth.

Minho snorted and turned back to the camera. “Hey guys, it’s Minho here. If you’re wondering why I’m not in my usual room, this is gonna be kind of an unusual video. I’ve been here, doin’ my YouTube thing, for nearly five years now. While that sounds impressive, I really only broke over a hundred subscribers after nearly two years,” He smiled. “Shout out to those people. But my channel’s been growin’ so quickly in the past two years, and I wanted to take a moment to acknowledge that. While I’m still doing gaming, and I have no plans to stop that anytime soon – don’t worry! – as the channel’s been growing, it’s also attracted a lot of people. And for some reason, a lot of those people seem to think I’m somehow knowledgeable about the world, and could offer advice on their problems.” He paused and shrugged at the camera. “I dunno about that, but there are some questions I get a _lot_ , in comments and on twitter and stuff like that, that I think I could genuinely talk about, and hopefully help someone. As there’ve been so many questions, I dunno how long this video will be, or whether I’ll split it into sections, or make this a regular series. I dunno, comment with your opinion.”

He paused to collect his thoughts and take a sip of water, knowing he would edit out the pause later.

“So just before we get started, I wanna say I am in _no way whatsoever_ a professional, and that my advice is just from my own experience, and if you have serious problems and concerns – you should raise them with a health or law professional. Okay, with that disclaimer out of the way, let’s get goin’, shuckfaces.”

He tapped on his tablet and took a deep breath. “Alright, first question. _Minho, how did you get started on YouTube and why did you start in the first place?_ Well, I started all this back in school, when I was going through kind of a rough patch in my life.” He paused for a second, looking down at his knees. “Let’s Plays and gameplay videos were just starting to get popular as a format, and I loved watching them. I loved the escapism, and the people I watched were funny, and skilled, and made the whole thing so much more enjoyable. It reminded me of playin’ games with my friends, and the stuff we’d talk about while playing together. And at the time when I was thinking about startin’ my own videos, I had just lost a lot of friends because of some personal business I’m not goin’ into right now. But anyway. I loved the format, and the content, and wanted to feel more confident in myself and my voice, and had a fair amount of games. So I decided one day to just… try it, and see how it went.” He smiled. “So I bought a really cheap microphone, and downloaded some screen-capture software, hit record and started playing. Oh man, if you look back at my early stuff there wasn’t a facecam, my voice was completely different, I was so self-conscious and nervous and babbly. But I slowly improved, and kept doing it when I was feelin’ especially down or upset, because it was fun, and reminded me of my friends.”

He shrugged and smiled into the camera. “And here we are. Okay, next question. _Hi Minho, do you have any advice on getting through high school?_ Wow, that’s a toughie. Like I said, I had kinda a rough time at school. My general advice would be… don’t worry so much about what other people think. In a couple years school will be over, and you most likely won’t have to ever hang out with those particular assholes again. Make sure you work hard at your grades, but don’t put so much pressure on yourself. You’re there to learn how to be a person as well as get your diploma. Look after your health, both mental and physical. Get into a routine. Take the opportunities to hang out with your friends and really make friendships that’ll last. If you’re unsure about anything, ask a teacher you trust. Take subjects that matter to you and that you’re interested in or passionate about. College isn’t for everyone, and that’s fine. Relationships aren’t that important in the long run. The sex ed will probably be crap so make sure you find good, reliable resources online to teach yourself. Spend time with your family when you can, you might be moving out and away after high school. Be aware of your limits and personal boundaries, and don’t let anyone force or pressure you into doing anything you’re not one hundred percent comfortable doing or ready to do – including relationships, sex, drinking, and drugs. Find people who will support you and your dreams. Tell people you trust if you’re being bullied. And that’s my two cents.”

He took another drink of water and answered a batch of questions on video games and his equipment before he found some more serious questions.

“Okay. _Minho, I don’t know if you’re the right person to ask, but you seem nice and I trust your opinion –_ Aw, thanks buddy – _my question is: how do I come out to my parents?_ Oooh, boy. I’m certainly a person to ask, I dunno if I ever actually said it in any videos, but from my commentary on some things you might’ve guessed. I’m bisexual, and I’ve been out to my family since I was fifteen. I’m lucky enough that I can safely be out at work and among my friends as well.” He paused to smile and wave at the camera. “So hey there, buddy. First off, there’s two questions you need to consider very carefully. One: Am I ready to do this? And two: Will I be safe if I do this?” Minho sighed. “Now, while being out can be really shuckin’ liberating and emotionally uplifting, unfortunately it’s still far too common that coming out in any way – as any label, sexuality or gender – could be very dangerous for you. Unfortunately, you need to consider whether comin’ out will cause rejection, social strain, financial worries, even housing worries. Now, I don’t know your situation at all. If you decide it’s time, and it’s safe, then I’m really happy for you. Everyone is different, and there are loads of coming out stories on YouTube.”

He rested a hand on his chest. “Personally, I knew my family would be accepting – I was raised by a lesbian couple, and I love my moms to bits. I knew my moms would be fine with me being bi and out, because they’re wonderful ladies who always encouraged me to learn about the LGBT community and be open-minded and explore my own understandin’ of myself. Not all LGBT parents will be like that, but that’s another point. So I sat down with them after dinner and just shared it with them, and it was fine for me. I’m very privileged in a lot of ways, and I know that for many, _many_ people, that simply isn’t an option. If you decide the time is right, then really, only _you_ know how your family would react. I’d generally advise bein’ patient and setting boundaries, and maybe test out any sort of prepared phrases on a friend or family member you trust first, to get the feel of it and gain confidence in yourself. Good luck on your journey friend, I hope it turns out alright.”

He smiled again at the camera, collecting his thoughts.

“That was nicely put,” Thomas commented quietly from his paper pile. “I’m glad your mums were supportive.”

“Thanks,” Minho said, stretching his arms. He would cut this out later as well. “How was it for you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Thomas shrugged and scratched the back of his neck for a minute. “Went reasonably well. I was eighteen, I think. I came out as ace and panromantic at the same time, so there was a lot of terminology to explain. Mum was pretty upset for a while, thinking I was confused or had something medically wrong with me to not really have a sex drive. Not out of hate or anything, but she’s a nurse, she sees things as symptoms sometimes. She got used to it after a while. The whole “I like all kinds of people including other guys” thing didn’t phase her, I think now she’s mostly concerned I won’t have fulfilling relationships or kids of my own later in life.” Thomas shrugged. “Chuck was cool with it. He just kinda rolls with news like that, and he’s said he likes knowing that he can ask me about that sort of thing, if he needs.”

Minho nodded, absorbing that for a few moments. Then he checked down his list of questions. “I uh. I actually have a question about being ace, here. I was gonna answer it myself from what I know and what Alby’s told me, but – d’you wanna pitch in?”

Thomas looked up properly from his notes. “Really? You wouldn’t mind?”

Minho smiled. “Nah, dude. You’re way more qualified than me to answer, I’m a goddamn filthy allosexual.” He waggled his eyebrows, making Thomas roll his eyes.

“Okay, how do you want me to come in?”

“Just stand out of shot and I’ll introduce you. Cool?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Right. Next question – _Minho, I’m nearly twenty three and I just don’t find people attractive. My friends are always pointing out people they find hot and talking about sex and asking why I never have a girlfriend or any partner. I feel so weird sometimes, like everyone’s on another radio frequency or something. Help._ Well, I’m not sure where all these sexuality questions are coming from, but I’m happy to try and help. What you’ve described sounds a lot like asexuality to me, but I actually have a friend here who can prob’ly help a lot better than me. Come sit down, Thomas, introduce yourself.”

Thomas sat beside him and waved at the camera. “Uh, hi everyone. Well I’m Thomas, I’m friends with Minho, I’ve been in a few of his videos now. And I identify as a panromantic sex-repulsed asexual. What that means for me is, I feel romantically attracted to people of all genders in pretty similar ways, but sexual behaviour and imagery really makes me very uncomfortable and it’s not something I can do with my partners. What you’ve described – not finding people sexually attractive, not understanding or identifying with other people’s sexual impulses or behaviours – sounds pretty classically asexual to me. Or ‘ace’, for short.” He paused, frowning down at his hands for a moment. “It’s really important that you understand, if you are ace, that you are _not_ broken. There’s nothing wrong or unnatural about being ace, as much as society likes to drive in the point that if you’re not wanting sex all the time then there must be something wrong with you. Having a completely absent sexual drive can be a symptom of some conditions, like depression, especially if it’s a rapid loss of interest rather than something you’ve never or only rarely experienced, or only in certain conditions. But being asexual is not a medical disorder. It’s a sexuality, like being gay or bi, as much as the community would like to pretend otherwise.”

He leaned forward into the camera. “You are not broken, you are not weird, you are not abnormal. I know you feel alone, but there _is_ a community of people who feel the same as you, who’ve gone through similar things. Being ace can be super lonely sometimes – everything in our media and culture is obsessed with sex. Ads are full of hypersexualised people, usually women, because ‘sex sells’. Films and TV shows constantly use lines like “love and sex are what make us human”, which is also really shitty to aromantics, who are also people that exist, by the way. I’ve only ever seen a handful of asexual characters in media, and ninety-nine percent of the time, they’re aliens and their lack of sexual need is used to hammer in the thought that they’re _different_ and weird and dysfunctional, and the hero – usually white and hetero and just _full_ of sexual need for the underdressed, badly-written female supporting character – shows them the error of their ways. And the other one percent is usually really badly written or never confirmed, or they meet “the right person” and get magically “fixed”. We’re constantly told that having sex is the pinnacle of achievement with a new partner, that it matters more than intimacy or trust or affection. Kind of a personal point, but guys especially are expected to always want to have sex and watch porn and be sexual, because “it’s natural” or “they can’t help themselves”. It’s fucking bullshit.” He stopped himself and glanced at Minho, who had been listening with a concerned expression. “Sorry. Kinda went off on one there.”

“It’s alright,” Minho said quietly, shuffling closer and reaching out to gently rub over his back. “Wow. Quite a lot of emotion there. I didn’t realise it was like that. To be honest, I always kinda thought, y’know. Asexuals don’t have sex and that’s mostly it. And demisexuals sometimes have sex with people they’re really connected with. I didn’t think about… all that. I’m sorry.”

“That’s what most people think, if they even know we exist. I don’t blame you. It’s just so fucking tiring, sometimes.” He blinked rapidly and Minho kept rubbing slowly over his back, at a loss for how to comfort his friend who was obviously upset and angry.

After a couple of minutes Thomas had calmed down enough to collect himself. “Was the camera recording all that?”

“I’ll cut out the last few minutes, don’t worry. And you can see the final cut before I upload it, don’t worry. Are you okay now?”

“Yeah. I’m always pretty mad about this stuff, and these midterms have got me stressed to hell. Had to go somewhere, I guess.”

“At least it’ll go somewhere to educate and help others rather than making you implode,” Minho smiled, still rubbing over his back. “Tell you what, we’ll wrap up the questions for now and watch something together for a bit, yeah? This video alone’s gonna be nearly thirty minutes, and you need a study break and some tea.”

Thomas smiled tiredly at him. “Good, that.”

Minho grinned and sat back approximately where he’d been before leaning over to comfort Thomas. “Okay, so, thank you Thomas for providing your insight there, I know I learned some new stuff today.”

Thomas smiled and nodded at the camera. “No problem. Just to recap – being ace isn’t being broken, you’re not alone, don’t let the media tell you how to experience life. I hope you can reach out to some ace communities.”

“Yeah, good luck with everything,” Minho nodded. “And that about wraps up this super long Q&A, thanks to everyone who gave a question, and I’ll try and work through the rest in another few videos. Remember to like, comment and subscribe, all that jazz. Thanks for watching, take care guys, see you real soon. Bye!” He and Thomas waved for a few seconds. “…Okay, that should be enough for a fade-out.” He got up and stopped the recording. “You pick the show, I’ll get the tea.”

“Fantastic.”

When Minho brought through their mugs, he couldn’t help but smile at the TV screen. “Toy Story? Good choice.”

Thomas smiled and passed him the remote.

“Thanks again for your perspective, even though it upset you,” Minho said quietly.

“It’s okay. I’m okay.” Thomas shrugged.

Minho frowned at him then gestured to himself. “C’mere. Just don’t drool on me this time.”

After a moment, Thomas smiled shyly and settled up close, head on Minho’s chest. Minho lightly rested his arms around Thomas protectively and fondly, and made sure his tea was within reaching distance. “You’re not alone either, Thomas,” He said quietly.

Thomas didn’t reply. He rested an arm across Minho’s stomach and settled himself, legs curled up to the side. Minho pressed Play, and held his friend close.


	11. TURN DOWN FOR just a sec please actually

TW: Mentions of Underage Drinking, Vomit, Minimal Dubcon

* * *

 

“Hey, where’s Sonya gone?” Harriet asked with a frown, looking around the store. Thomas looked with her, and Aris glanced around quickly as if uncomfortable.

“Oh, she’s in the makeup section, over there,” Rachel pointed with a smile. Sonya’s long, incredibly pale hair was always easy to spot in crowds.

“Odd for her,” Harriet smiled.

“I’ll go help her,” Rachel offered quickly, looking excited as she hurried through the department store, high heels clacking against the lino.

Harriet looked to Aris curiously, who gave a fond little smile. “She’s really into makeup, she spends hours on that stuff. You should see her bathroom, dude.”

“Aw, Sonya’s in good hands then. I’m pretty useless honestly,” Harriet shrugged, pulling her thick, luxurious hair back into a fluffy bun. “I can do like, basic eyeliner and foundation and that’s about it. I’ll have to ask Rachel for some advice for Halloween, huh?”

“Sure,” Aris said and shoved his hands in his pockets. “She’d probably be super excited to do your makeup for you.”

Thomas eyed him quietly, seeing how his eyes darted around the clothing section uncomfortably. He seemed to be avoiding looking at the especially pink or girly things, and was rubbing over the soft cuff of his plaid shirt.

“Hey, Aris, you wanna help me find a costume? I think there’s some ghoulish stuff over there,” Thomas suggested, nodding back towards the men’s section.

“Yeah, sure,” Aris breathed in relief, shooting him a rapid smile. “Yeah, let’s have some guy time. Can’t deal with all this makeup talk. I mean, it all looks the same, right?”

Thomas walked with him back to the men’s section and hid a smile, not wanting Aris to think he was being patronising. He seemed to be trying a little hard, but that was understandable. “Mm, I guess so,” He agreed neutrally. “I’m learning a lot from my friend Newt, though, he likes wearing makeup sometimes.”

“Oh,” Aris said, looking round at the graphic tees almost with relief. “Newt’s cool, I like talking with him. Even if his accent’s a bit weird.”

They shared a smile and shopped together for a little while, picking out cheap clothes they could repurpose for costumes. “Y’know, I never really understood why Halloween is such a thing over here,” Thomas commented, looking at the rows and rows of props and already-made costumes stretching away before them. “It’s not nearly as huge in England. Like it’s mostly little kids that go trick or treating, with a parent or an older sibling or something. I used to dress up with my friends, but that was more for house parties, and no one was super into their costume or making sure it was realistic.” He shrugged and smiled at Aris’ shocked expression. “Just how it was where I grew up, I guess. I remember when I was younger, me and mum and Chuck would stay in and do apple bobbing and bagel biting, and have like, Easter-egg-style sweet hunts. My mum would hide sweets around the house and we’d turn off all the lights, grab a torch each and try and find them, and she’d jump out and tickle us. It was really fun.”

“Aw,” Aris said. “That sounds super cute. Didn’t you have kid parties? With like, themed food and games and stuff? That’s what we did at home, all the kids would pile into a house and get dizzy on sweets and jello and spooky cupcakes and stuff. Then we’d go out trick or treating when we were older. And I guess we’re all going out partying this year as well.”

Thomas shrugged again and flipped through some ‘dirt’-stained tees. “I know other families did. But my mum’s a nurse, she usually had to work because of all the stress on the ER, and we couldn’t afford a babysitter usually, so we got left with my grandad on Halloween ‘cause we could sleep over there instead of at a friend’s house. And he’s not big on ‘demon summoning and celebrating the Devil’. So when she got off shift we’d have our party the night after or whenever. It was still fun though.”

“Sounds cute.”

“Mm, it was. Hey, d’you think this could pass as under-shirt gore?” Thomas asked, pulling out a crimson, fleshy-looking shirt.

“Gross, definitely,” Aris grinned.

“Cool,” Thomas smiled and folded it over his arm. He was getting pretty excited about the costume, if he was being honest. Growing up with American cartoons making such a big deal out of Halloween, it was hard not to feel like the English version was pretty lacklustre. And it was just nice to get out of the library, with midterms starting in a few days. They all needed a break. “What are you going as, again?”

Aris grinned and struck a broody pose. “Will Graham, bloody version. Rachel’s going as Alana.”

“Wow. You’re gonna need a lot of fake blood. Rachel would look amazing as Alana.”

“I know, right?” Aris enthused. “She’s gonna look so gorgeous, even more than usual. And she’s gonna help me mascara on some beard, seeing as I can’t grow much of my own just yet.”

“Give it time,” Thomas smiled. “Hell, I’m like three years older than you and I only have to shave every couple days, I’m a beardless wonder.”

Aris grinned and picked out another check plaid shirt. “What d’you think? Good candidate for getting covered in fake blood?”

“Definite winner right there.”

The girls joined them shortly thereafter, baskets loaded up with special effects makeup and bits of clothes to be put together into an Alana Bloom costume and, for Sonya and Harriet, lots of witchy stuff. They were going with a group of other girls as a coven, cauldrons and familiars and fake crystals galore.

Once they were done paying for all their costume stuff, they headed out to a café for lunch, chatting idly along the way about TV shows, movies and music – and resolutely avoiding mentioning any word even similar to ‘midterm’. After a while though, they all started to feel the guilty itch that they should be buried under books in the library somewhere. They parted ways, and Thomas headed over to Minho’s place. He fished out the spare key Minho had given him and let himself in.

It was very quiet inside, and Thomas was starting to think Minho was in his recording room when he heard a faint snore. He peered into the living space and smiled – Minho was curled up in one of his beanbags, wrapped up in a blanket with new issue comics spread all around him in once-neat piles that had been knocked over by his feet. The new Batman issue was open in his lap, held rigidly in his hands, while his head bobbed over it. Thomas considered taking a picture for emotional leverage later, but decided against it. Minho had been working himself silly the past few weeks, trying to get more videos done each day. When Thomas had left earlier to go shopping, he’d made Minho promise to take the afternoon off for once and just relax. Minho had resisted at first, but then relented when he remembered his bulk order of new comics would be arriving that day. Obviously he’d needed the break, if he’d fallen asleep so quickly.

Thomas carefully lowered his bags to the ground and crept around his friend. He grabbed a couple of cushions from the couch and carefully propped them under Minho’s head, tilting him back so his neck wouldn’t be sore. Minho didn’t stir at all, only started snoring louder. Thomas slid a bookmark into the comic open on his lap and set an alarm on his phone, to remind him to wake Minho up to get ready for his shift at the gym. He looked at Minho and shook his head fondly – the guy really needed to slow down sometimes. Moving as quietly as he could, Thomas settled back at the table where his ringbinders and books were all laid out for study. He popped in some earbuds to block out the snoring and got back to work.

A couple hours later, Minho gave a loud, startled noise like choking and woke up blearily, looking around in confusion. The disorientation faded after a moment but he felt like crap – his throat was sore with dehydration, his hands were cramped and he felt uncomfortably cosy and sweaty under the blanket. He shifted about, trying to figure out what had happened, and frowned at the pile of cushions under his head that definitely had not been there before. Looking over to the table, he found the culprit and just had to smile. Thomas hadn’t even noticed him waking up, he was so engrossed in his books and notes. Minho saw his lips moving minutely as he read, a frown of concentration on his face and a smear of highlighter plastered over that too. Minho rested his cheek on the cushion pile and simply watched him for a few minutes, feeling very warm and gooey in his chest somewhere. He half-wanted to say hello again and thank him for the cushions, but the textbook stacks intimidated him. He knew Thomas had his first midterm in two days, and he probably wouldn’t appreciate the interruption. So instead he sat up straight and got back to his comics, feeling peaceful with the quiet sounds of pens, paper and their mingled breathing filling the room like white noise.

He’d read through maybe half of his pile of comics – he tended to wait and then order loads of collected volumes all at once, maybe twice a year, a spending and reading binge that always made his bank account sting but was incredibly satisfying – when he heard a painful thump and looked over. He grinned: Thomas had apparently dozed off himself, and hit his head spectacularly on the hard table surface when it slipped off his supporting hand.

“Oww,” Thomas muttered, rubbing his forehead. He spotted Minho. “Oh, hey, did I wake you up?”

“No,” Minho laughed. “I woke up a while ago. Thanks for the cushions, by the way. You okay there?”

“Think I lost a few brain cells,” Thomas grumbled. “Otherwise I’m good. You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m havin’ a great little comic party over here. How’d your shopping trip go?”

“Pretty good, think I’ve got most of my costume ready now. And Rachel’s gonna do some gory makeup for me. Are you coming along to the post-midterm party next week, by the way? You’re welcome to come, it’d be fun.”

Minho shrugged. “I dunno, I’ll think about it. It might be a bit weird, if I’m the only non-college dude there. And I’ll be older than everyone else.”

“Well, me and Newt want you to come.” Thomas smiled. “And Alby might be going to the party too. I know Brenda’s inviting some of her non-college friends. You should get out a bit, Minho. Away from recording and the gym for once, yeah?”

Minho stuck his tongue out in reply, but the nudge – as gentle and well-meaning as it was – stung. He knew he was pretty obsessed and insular with his interests. And sure, it would be nice to go to a party and have some fun. The idea of a college party didn’t really appeal, though. He was going to turn twenty-four soon, and he didn’t really want to be hanging out with eighteen year olds going wild on sneaky, underage alcohol all full of the thrill of being away from home for the first time, _and_ after finishing their first midterms. But if Thomas and Newt were going to be there, it might be alright. And he didn’t have to stay for the whole thing. He could just go for the first hour and leave if it was weird. Yeah.

He nodded to himself. “Okay, sure. You want any help with studying there?”

“Might help,” Thomas admitted. “Stop me falling asleep. You can quiz me on these case notes, if you don’t mind.”

“Nah, sure.”

Minho ambled over, stretching out his back, and sat at the table with him. Thomas passed him a sheaf of notes and Minho squinted at them for a few minutes, stomach sinking. He could read Thomas’ handwriting easily enough, but it might as well have been a foreign language. And he’d been learning written and spoken Korean since he was a kid. He read through the first paragraph and puzzled out some of the words in his head, but it made very little sense to him. A little spike of shame pricked his stomach but he smiled to cover it. He’d known Thomas was smart, to have been selected for a study-abroad program for psychology even when he wasn’t currently in school – he’d have to get to the bottom of that at some point –, but hearing Thomas rattle off these convoluted sentences and all these weird terms with absolute confidence, frankly, was doing very little for Minho’s self-confidence. His highest qualification was a high school diploma, and he was abruptly aware of the fact that Thomas was two years younger than him but way smarter. And that when he graduated (as Minho had no doubts he would) with a ridiculously high qualification, he’d probably be able to walk into a job and get training as a professional psychologist or whatever. And Minho would be… what? Still playing video games all day for a living, running aerobics classes in the evening? He swallowed back the sour taste of bile that rose up in his throat, with high notes of jealousy and low notes of shame mixed in the bouquet. Mm, delicious. A fine old vintage.

“Are you okay, Minho?”

“Huh?” Minho jerked out of his thoughts and flashed a quick, automatic smile. “Yeah, I’m golden dude. Just dunno how helpful I can be with this, I can barely understand half of this stuff. You’re probably better off asking Newt, y’know.”

“No, you’re really helping,” Thomas replied, a small crease in his brows like he was trying not to seem too concerned. “Explaining it to someone who hasn’t been to any classes really helps, makes sure I’m understanding it properly too.”

“Mm. If you’re sure I’m not too dumb for all this.”

“Hey, you’re not dumb at all, Minho.” There was a definite frown now. “This is all fancy words for medical stuff, and I had psychology A-Levels as well – like AP classes, I think, for over here. You haven’t had any psychology training, you don’t need to feel bad for not understanding it. And you’re crazy smart – I have no idea how you react so fast in games, or manage all the controls without even thinking about it, or put together all your videos. All that editing software stuff is just – wow. And you’re so fast at it, as well. And your work at the gym, you keep all that physiology knowledge in your head, juggle nutrition plans for yourself and your clients, manage their health and regimens, keep an eye on them for signs of exhaustion and dehydration, all that. You’re hardly stupid, Minho. So what if you’re not academic? You’re brilliant.”

Minho had to clear his throat for a moment and blinked a few times. The sharp, hurtful feeling in his stomach eased a little. “Thanks,” he muttered, and flicked through Thomas’ notes for the next file. He kept his eyes on the paper until he felt a bit more settled, and so missed Thomas’ little smile directed his way.

Minho quizzed and tested Thomas until evening fell and both their stomachs were complaining. Minho cooked them both some stir fry while Thomas had a shower to clear his head, and they ate together on the couch watching the same trashy high school drama they’d been watching before, leaning comfortably against each other and laughing at the hammy acting and weird dialogue.

And when Thomas fell asleep over his textbooks again, Minho looped one of Thomas’ arms around his shoulders and hauled him off to bed, ignoring his sleepy protests and tucking him in with a pat to his shoulder.

For the next few days, Thomas disappeared into a haze of textbooks, notes and frantic cramming while Minho quietly looked after him and made sure he was drinking enough water and sleeping properly. And when he arrived back after each exam, they watched mindless TV together and talked of nothing of importance.  Minho grew comfortable sitting with his arm around Thomas’ shoulders and the weight of him against his shoulder or chest. Then, when his last exam was done, Minho forced him to go to bed at eight PM and brought him breakfast the next morning.

When everyone had finished their midterms, naturally it was time for a party. Minho adjusted his shirt self-consciously as they walked and made sure his hair was flicked up properly.

“Relax, it’s fine,” Thomas assured him. “I want you there, Newt wants you there, my friends want to meet you, Alby will be there too. Chill. You look fine. You might even meet someone, who knows.”

Minho pulled a face but stood straighter. “I’m not really looking for anyone at the minute, but thanks. And besides, they’ll all be kids. I’d feel weird being so much older.”

“Sorry grandpa,” Thomas grinned and nudged his side. “At least you won’t get ID-ed with all those grey hairs.”

“Shut up,” Minho snorted and nudged him back.

“Sorry, _gray_ hairs. I keep forgetting my American vocab.”

“Asshole.” Minho said with a smile.

“Got you smiling though.”

“Such an asshole.”

“Why thank you. Anyway, it’s in here apparently,” Thomas said, nodding towards the ground floor student apartment that Aris, Rachel and Teresa shared together. Teresa answered the door with a smile reserved just for Thomas that spoke volumes to Minho and gave him a tight feeling in his chest. He pushed it away though, and nudged Thomas who was stumbling over his hello like an idiot.

“H-Hey, Teresa,” Thomas grinned. “You look nice. This is my friend Minho.”

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you finally,” Teresa smiled up at him, and he raised a hand.

“Yeah, you too. Thanks for inviting me as well.”

“No problem, any friend of Tom’s,” She shrugged, tucking her long, dark hair behind her ear artfully. Minho didn’t miss the glance she gave their friend, or the nickname, but pretended he had. He definitely ignored the pink tint to Thomas’ face. _Wow ‘Tom’, you’re an idiot,_ Minho thought, exasperated and amused all at once. _Good luck, she’s determined._

Teresa led them inside, where a fair number of people from their course were already hanging out and enjoying the music. Thomas spotted Brenda hanging out by the drinks table with a bunch of friends from her course, and led Minho over while Teresa showed a few more people in.

“Hey Brenda, this is Minho,” Thomas smiled and waved vaguely between them in introduction.

“Hey there,” Brenda replied, looking Minho over. “So you’re the dude.”

“Apparently. Nice to meet you,” Minho smiled, holding out a hand. She slapped his palm with a grin and he bumped her curled fist with his own.

“I think we’ll get along just fine,” Brenda drawled to Thomas, who looked like he realised he had just made a grave mistake in introducing them.

“Cool. Can you look after this dork while I go look for Newt?”

“Sure?” Brenda shrugged, and they watched Thomas head off.

“Wow, thanks Thomas,” Minho muttered. “Dumped already.”

“Aww, don’t get down in the dumps,” Brenda grinned, leaning back against the table. “I don’t bite, promise.”

“I’m sure,” Minho deadpanned before cracking a smile. “Though honestly, he tells me to get outta the house then completely abandons me.”

“Poor kitten. Have a drink,” Brenda offered, handing him a bottle of beer. “If you’re old enough.”

“Trust me, babe,” Minho rolled his eyes and took a swig. “You sure _you’re_ old enough to be drinking?”

She raised an eyebrow cockily at him, nicked the bottle back and downed fully all of it in one go. “This ain’t no baby face, sunshine,” She said sweetly, and pushed the bottle back into his limp fingers.

Minho swallowed thickly. _Well damn._

Across the room, Thomas had located Newt and Alby and pulled them out of the corner to pay attention to other people, and set about introducing them to the rest of his friends. He was trying to find Aris when he spotted both he and Rachel over by Minho, who Brenda had left alone temporarily. All three of them looked vaguely stressed and kept looking around as they talked, as if they were nervous about being seen together. More curiously, it seemed like they already knew each other. Intrigued, Thomas headed over.

“Hey guys, how’s it going?”

All three jumped and assumed similarly guilty faces, then smiled at him in such unison it was just a little unnerving.

“Oh hey, didn’t see ya there buddy.”

“Hi, Thomas.”

“Oh, er, hello. Good party, right?”

Thomas looked at each of them in turn. “…Okay. Is something going on?”

“No,” They answered, very quickly.

“We were just catching up,” Aris added.

“Oh, do you guys know each other from somewhere? You never said,” Thomas smiled.

“Um. Yeah, we all went to the same sports club when we were younger,” Aris said, and Rachel and Minho nodded in agreement. “Haven’t seen each other in years. Small world, huh?”

Thomas thought that a little odd, but he wasn’t going to press the issue. “That’s cool,” He smiled instead. “I’m gonna get something to eat, you guys want anything?”

They declined, and Thomas pottered off again.

“Thanks,” Minho said quietly.

“No worries, bro,” Aris smiled, and slapped his back cheerfully. “Enjoy the party.”

“Sure,” Minho smiled back. “And congrats on finishing your midterms. Thomas’ study notes looked awful, hope you both did well on them.”

“Thanks,” Rachel said quietly, fiddling self-consciously with her hair. “I hope so. Thomas said your YouTube thing is going well, I’m so glad that’s taken off for you.”

“Yeah, congrats on that,” Aris beamed. “What subscriber count are you up to now?”

“Just short of a hundred thousand,” Minho said with a proud smile. “It’s not so big compared to a lot of channels, but it’s still huge for me. It’s growing really fast now though.”

“Wow, oh my God,” Rachel said, eyes wide and hands to her mouth. “You’re doing so well!”

Minho had to admit, it was nice to have a bit of validation sometimes. “Thanks,” He said again, voice warm. “And hey, Rachel. You look beautiful.”

Her eyes welled up and she gave him a small, shy smile. Just before she dashed off to the bathroom to fix her makeup from the resulting tears, she squeezed his arm tightly. He understood it as thanks, and took Aris’ punch to the arm with a smile as well.

“You’re looking awesome,” Aris told him, looking a little envious but mostly proud.

“Helps when you work at the gym,” Minho shrugged, trying to be humble. “You look great, man. Seriously. You’ve got nothing to be self-conscious about.”

Aris grinned down at the floor. “Thanks. Well, I’m gonna talk to some people.”

“Cool,” Minho smiled and got a drink for himself when Aris was gone, determined to get more than a single swig from this one before Brenda reappeared to down it again. Soon after a flood of other psychology students arrived and the party really got going. Drinks flowed and the room turned rowdy as space was cleared for dancing, and hours passed in a blur of pounding music.

Thomas closed his eyes against the strobing of the party lights, drink in hand while the bass reverberated through his feet up into his chest. A hard, steady pulse that felt like life surged through his veins as the room jumped, filled to the brim with ecstatic students finally free of midterms, friends and strangers alike. The noise pressed against his eardrums like water pressure and he grinned fiercely, watching the crowded room dance and shift and sway together, a many-limbed entity that melted all cares away.

He sipped his drink and leaned against the wall, watching with a smirk as he spotted Minho on the far side of the room, doing something that fell vaguely between bickering and flirting on a behavioural Venn diagram with Brenda, who looked like she was thoroughly enjoying the opportunity to snark at someone just as sarcastic as herself. Thomas raised his cup in their general direction, wishing Minho luck for the night – he’d have to be going some to keep up with Brenda’s sharp tongue. He spotted a few of his other friends in the crowd – Alby and Newt pressed up close, eyes locked on each other as they danced, somehow seeming isolated and private in the crush of people. A group of his other psychology friends were doing shots in the kitchen, daring each other onto the next one. He couldn’t spot Aris and Rachel, and wondered if they had snuck off somewhere.

He pushed off from the wall, downed his drink and joined the others briefly to refill, taking a shot with them. He was debating diving into the crush of dancers when he spotted Teresa on the other side of the room, apparently watching the crowd too. Their eyes met and she raised her cup to him and held his gaze as she drank.

Thomas swallowed and raised a hand in reply, hoping his face didn’t reveal how he felt. There was an intensity in her that always put him on edge, in the way her eyes always found his and held them mercilessly, cool and assessing, somehow knowing. Her perfect pale skin and midnight hair, the easy confidence as she walked across the room slowly to him, hipbones jutting above her jeans. She held him with her eyes, still and admiring as she made her way through the press of people until they stood close, far closer than normal. He felt nervous sweat bead on the back of his neck and affected a smile.

“Great party,” He complimented her as clearly as he could over the pounding music. She smiled, a gradual curve of lip that drew his eyes and refused to let them go.

She leaned up closer and spoke quietly, so he had to read her lips to understand. “I’m glad you came.” Her breath smelled of shots and fruit and the heat of her body radiated through his clothes.

He swallowed again to clear his throat and saw her eyes drop to watch the motion, her lips parting. His heart was already racing, and there was a touch of panic in it now.

“I’m glad too,” He replied, as neutrally as he could. “It’s been really wild.”

She grinned, eyes flicking up to capture his again. He was drowning, lost in the clear ocean blue of her eyes, each flashing strobe searing their shape and colour over his vision in blurry spots. She leaned closer and pressed him against the wall, their hips and legs pushed close.

“Hey, Teresa, that’s a bit—” Her mouth closed over his protest and oh _fuck_ her lips were so soft and warm and wet and he couldn’t help kissing her back for a moment, despite the alarm bells ringing and his skin shuddering uncomfortably. Her hands splayed on his stomach and he almost cringed back from her, pressing back into the wall. He pulled away from her lips with a wet popping noise that made him wince. Her eyes were wide and dark in the flashing room, and as stressed as he was he just had to admire her. She was so beautiful it made his chest ache, but his breath was coming short not from desire but alarm. He raised his hands to her shoulders and gently pushed her back. A hurt look flashed across her face and suddenly he couldn’t stand to meet her bold, brave gaze any longer. Shame and revulsion swept over him like a sluice of dumpster juice.

“No, sorry, no,” He managed to stammer, and pushed past her and out of the hot press of the room, hands shaking and stomach heaving as he sought the cool dark of the night air outside. He sank shivering onto the front step and rested his head in his hands. 

_Fuck, shit, and balls,_ he thought miserably. He was busy berating himself when he heard footsteps behind him and turned apprehensively, hoping it was anyone but Teresa. It was Newt, who sat down with him on the step sporting a concerned frown.

“Hey, Tommy. What’s goin’ on? You ran out real quick.”

Thomas made a garbled noise, not sure how to respond when his skin was crawling and his chest felt trapped in a vise. Not to mention the headache rapidly growing behind his eyes. Newt made to put an arm around his shoulders and he flinched reflexively, curling in on himself. He didn’t think he could bear to be touched just then. Newt’s hand hovered for a moment, then settled back on the step between them.

“Okay,” Newt said quietly. “You take a minute to calm down, then we’ll talk when you’re ready.”

Thomas nodded shakily and braced his arms on his up-drawn knees, head hanging low to hide his face as he fought to get control over his body. He felt like such an idiot for not seeing that _this_ had been what Teresa wanted from him, that it was her energy of expectant, thinly veiled sexuality that put him so on edge around her, as well as his own little crush on her. He felt like he should’ve seen this coming a mile off. Even Brenda’s sly hints seemed obvious in retrospect. But then, hindsight was 20/20 and all that.

He forcibly focussed on the feeling of his feet planted square on the cement step and worked up through his body, grounding himself in the moment and not in the feelings of anxiety and stress. He rebuilt his body from the ground up and imagined cool blue air entering his lungs, helping them expand with each breath, and breathing out the yellow gas keeping them constricted until he imagined his whole body was glowing blue and calm. When that was done, he straightened up and glanced Newt’s way.

“You wanna talk?” Newt asked quietly.

“Not much to say,” Thomas shrugged and rubbed over his face. “Teresa kissed me. I freaked the fuck out and ran off. She’s probably really mad at me right now. Or really upset. Probably both.”

Newt digested that in silence for a few moments, obviously burying comments and insensitive questions and a want for more detail.

“Okay. Well, do you wanna date her at all?”

Thomas looked down at his knees and sighed. “No, not really. I have a bit of a crush on her, but it’s just – aesthetic, really. I don’t want to go out with her, I just wanna be friends.”

“So tell her that. It’s a bit embarrassing, but I’m sure you can both get over it eventually. You’re big kids now.”

That made a tiny smile twitch involuntarily on Thomas’ lips.

“Hey, there it is,” Newt smiled. “It’ll be fine, Tommy, no need to stress. These things happen. Is it okay if I touch you?”

Thomas hesitated, then nodded. Newt gently rested his hand on Thomas’ shoulder and squeezed steadily for a moment in support, then let him go. Thomas didn’t have the words to express his gratitude, but made a mental note to do something nice for Newt later.

“I’d better not leave this too late,” Thomas said and got to his feet.

“It’ll be okay,” Newt said encouragingly, and followed him back into the party. “Good luck.”

Thomas nodded to him and started searching through the dancing crowds, cringing away from the press of bodies, looking for Teresa. He eventually stumbled across her in the bathroom with Rachel and hovered outside uncertainly.

“—so stupid,” Teresa was saying, he could hear through the crack in the door. She sounded congested, like she’d been crying.

“There’s no need to feel stupid,” Rachel said firmly. “You acted on your feelings, that’s a good thing. So it didn’t turn out the way you wanted, okay. That sucks. But it’s not the end of the world. If you really wanna get melodramatic, we can watch stupid movies and eat buckets of ice cream together tomorrow. But for now – just look up for me, or I won’t be able to redo your eyeliner and you’ll be a smudgy raccoon all night.”

He heard a soft sound, like a half-hearted laugh. His heart clenched, and he didn’t want to interrupt – he was getting quite a history of accidentally eavesdropping outside toilets, he mused – but he knew things would only get more awkward the longer they left things unexplained. He took a deep breath and knocked on the door. “Teresa? It’s Thomas.”

The door opened and Thomas saw them properly, Teresa sitting on the closed toilet lid while Rachel fixed her makeup, hands full implements wielded with expert care. Rachel assumed a carefully neutral expression and Teresa gave him a small, sad smile that he mirrored back to her.

“Hey,” He said quietly. “Can we talk?”

“Sure.” She sighed.

“Just a minute,” Rachel said, and leaned back into her friend, rapidly redoing her eyeliner and blending out any smudges. Teresa gave her a proper smile and the two girls exchanged fond, sweet cheek kisses before Teresa stood with her chin tilted up unapologetically and led Thomas out to the little gravel garden patch at the back of the house. They let their eyes adjust and their courage grow in the quiet blackness until the silence became strained.

“Look, Teresa, I really like you, but—”

“I’m aro,” She blurted at the same time. They paused for a moment, then Thomas gestured for her to continue. “I’m aromantic. I don’t really… _get_ romance stuff. I don’t feel it. I like connecting with people physically. And as friends. But I’m not good with the lovey-dovey stuff, if just doesn’t make sense to me.” She shrugged and folded her arms self-consciously. “I’m not great with reading those sorts of signals. Sorry. I obviously read you wrong. I thought you’d be down to – never mind.”

“You thought I’d be down for sex?”

She nodded. He thought he could see a blush on her cheeks, even in the dark. He took a moment to collect his thoughts, then offered a small smile. “You really picked the wrong guy, Teresa. I’m ace, and sex-repulsed.”

She looked at him for a moment. “Ah, shit.”

“I’m sure there’s a joke in there somewhere.”

“Probably.” She sighed and ran a hand through her hair.

Thomas felt a bit of the tension in his chest deflate a little. “Teresa, look. I really like you. I think you’re amazing, and so beautiful you honestly make me breathless sometimes. I _do_ have a bit of a crush on you. But I don’t do sexual stuff with anyone. Kissing is about my limit, with people I have a strong romantic relationship with. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry. I knew you liked me, I figured it was sexual rather than crushy. Fuck. I get those signals confused sometimes.”

“It’s okay. I get them mixed up too, ‘cause I don’t get sexual attraction at all, really. It all makes me feel kinda grossed out, so those things usually just. Go over my head a lot.”

“Wow, you two are fuckin’ tragic,” A dry voice commented from behind them.

“Er, hi, Brenda,” Thomas said, vaguely embarrassed that they’d been overheard.

Brenda came over to them, swaying a little. “C’mon, hug it out, be friends again,” she grinned. “Orders of the resident aro-ace. Fuck it, let’s all have a hug.”

_I knew it_ , Thomas thought. “Brenda, you’re drunk.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t want hugs,” Brenda replied with a slurred laugh. “Your boy Minho’s even worse’n me, I won fair and square.”

“Oh, jeez,” Thomas muttered, and then Brenda was squishing them both together, giggling and patting their backs. He and Teresa rather awkwardly joined the hug. It became less awkward after a few moments, and they shared a shy smile. “Still wanna be friends?”

“Duh,” Teresa replied. “I need your part for the presentation project still, you slacker.”

The last bit of tension drained way and he let out a grateful sigh. The three of them stood together in the night, enjoying each other’s company. That is, until Brenda made a distinctive noise in her throat and they sprang apart rather rapidly.

“I’ll get her hair,” Teresa said, keeping the short fluff of Brenda’s hair out of her mouth as she bent over. Her other hand went to rub soothing circles over Brenda’s back as she retched.

“I’ll get some water,” Thomas added. As he wove through the still-raging party and spotted Minho passed out on the couch, he was forced to wonder why his friends could be such embarrassments. _Wouldn’t be the same without them_ , he thought with a smile.

Teresa smiled warmly at him as he brandished a cup of water and he let himself breathe again. Things were going to be fine.


	12. HOLIDAY BONANZA EXTRAVAGANZA

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoollyyy shitttt it's been a while, oops. But I'm hoping to get back to a more frequent updating schedule now I'm settled in my new job. But!!! I have news!!! Come one come all, fine ladies, gents and all folk, have I got a treat for you!!!  
> Not ONLY is this chapter a huge, mega-update upwards of 24,000 words to make up for the hiatus.  
> Not ONLY have I made a playlist on 8tracks to accompany the fic (http://8tracks.com/spanglebangle/no-place-i-d-rather-be-thominho-nalby).  
> BUT!  
> I'm gonna do a video response thingy to your comments!!! I wanted to show you guys how much I appreciate you sticking with me and this fic that's gotten ridiculously long and out of hand, and for leaving so many beautiful, uplifting comments that really help me out when I'm feeling down. So I thought it might be nice to do a little video for you, kind of a Q+A? And especially as this fic is over a year old now somehow. SOOO if you have any questions at all about the fic, characters, backstories, universe, or me and my writing in general, leave a comment! Or if you don't have a question I'll just reply to any comments there are.  
> As a bonus thing, I'll upload the video with the next chapter, which should be coming very soon as well /winkwink.  
> RIGHT! I hope you enjoy this gigantic-ass update, because I sure as hell loved writing it :D

Thomas woke to the dulcet tones of the Spooky Scary Skeletons dance remix and knew immediately he would deeply regret getting out of bed. But the volume was only increasing and as he listened, Thomas realised with mute horror that it was a loop version. No. It couldn’t be the 10 hour version. There was no way.

But knowing Minho…

“Minho,” He yelled croakily from the spare bedroom that he was appropriating increasingly often. “It isn’t Halloween for another five days.”

Minho bounced past his door, grinning like an idiot and doing the appropriate pumpkin-man dance. “Up you get lazybones, we got videos to film!”

Thomas groaned and tried burying his face in the pillow but Minho danced inside and hauled him laughingly out of bed. “C’mon, let’s run and then we have so much filming to do, oh boy.”

“I hate you so much.”

“Love you too dude, now get your ass in some running clothes and let’s go!”

Three hours later Minho was turning off all the lights in the recording room and cackling to himself.

“Why. Why this.”

“Because there isn’t physically enough time to record, edit and upload Halloween videos _on_ Halloween, and you promised to help me out.”

“I know,” Thomas huffed. “But _why_.”

“Because you’re a whiny baby,” Minho teased with a grin and nudged him as he set up the camera and adjusted his mic.

“What are we playing, anyway?”

“ _You’re_ playing PT, which is a short Silent Hill game, then a bit of FNAF until you quit, and _then_ you’re gonna play the entirety of Amnesia. And I’m going to laugh at you the entire time.” Minho announced smugly.

“What the actual hell, I never signed up for all that!”

“Too late! Hey everybody, it’s Minho here and a happy Halloween to you all! We’re gonna spook Thomas as much as possible today, I can’t wait.” Minho chatted to the camera, ignoring the stink-eye Thomas was giving him from the side. He looked entirely too happy at the prospect of scaring Thomas witless in a dark room for hours.

 

“Hahahaa, fuck you Alexander!” Thomas crowed in a hoarse voice as the credits rolled up hours later. “Fuck you, fuck Agrippa and fuck your whole stupid castle. You get nothing, you lose, good day sir!” He laughed wheezily with Minho, who was leaning back in his chair and gasping for breath at Thomas’ reaction.

“Oh my god, Thomas, you can’t just – you’re missing the huge emotional point of the end, of Daniel reclaiming himself and Alexander’s homeland angst and all that,” Minho said over him, though he couldn’t stop grinning. “You can’t just Leeroy Jenkins this shit and close out.”

“I don’t give a single fuck,” Thomas yelled wildly. “We’ve been sitting in the dark all day sitting through jumpscares and monsters and all kinds of _bullshit_ , I’m gonna be happy when it’s over!”

“Chill, dude,” Minho laughed fondly. “Should _not_ have given you energy drinks huh?”

Thomas grinned, eyes bright in the dark room. “Should have given me more.”

“Holy shit,” Minho laughed and lightly shoved his shoulder. “Calm down, we’re done, it’s over.”

“Uhhhh, finally,” Thomas groaned and sagged in his chair. “I’m so tired and jittery. I hate you for making me play all those games.”

“No you don’t.”

“No, I don’t,” Thomas relented as they shared a smile. “Though I will definitely be seeing those flappy-jaw assholes in my dreams later.”

“Poor baby,” Minho said in mock-sympathy and gestured at him. Thomas smiled and leaned into his chest as Minho wrapped his arms lightly around Thomas and ruffled his stress-sweaty hair. “I can’t believe you never saw any footage of Amnesia before. It basically launched gaming YouTube out of the weird corners and into the big leagues when it came out. You think FNAF was big? There would have been basically no big, well-known community for gaming and Let’s Plays before Amnesia.  Pretty much everyone who LPed it back then is big now. Man, I remember when the Milkyways Dildobitch video came out, wild times. You wanna talk reaction remixes and viral memes and shit? I got stories, man. _Pre-_ Pewds and tiny box Tim as well. Amnesia certainly gave me a huge boost in terms of visibility and subscribers, anyway. And it’s gonna be the same with the people who went viral over FNAF, just you watch.”

“Uh huh, sure, goddamn hipster,” Thomas said with an exaggerated yawn, though Minho knew he was genuinely interested and just being a little shit. He pulled a face at Thomas and let him go with a grin.

“Can we get out of this tiny dark room now and see some daylight please?”

“Sure, I guess it’s about shuckin’ time we wrapped all of this up,” Minho turned back to the camera with a wide grin. “Hope you all enjoyed this Halloween special, and have a great night! And thanks again to Thomas for joining and screaming with me.” He squished Thomas’ cheeks in both hands. “Go follow his Instagram! He’s cool, I promise. Say bye, Thomas.”

“Bye everyone,” Thomas said through Minho’s wide hands, shoving playfully at him. “Get _off_ me, man.”

“Never. Bye! Happy Halloween!”

They waved at the camera for a few seconds to provide footage for the outro, then heaved a simultaneous sigh and sagged back in their chairs.

“I have such a headache,” Thomas muttered. Minho reached behind him to flick on the lights and they both winced at the sudden spike of white light instead of the ambient lighting of the game, which had a low gamma anyway.

“Did you have fun though?”

“Yeah dude, tons,” Thomas smiled tiredly. “Really, I did. How do you stay so high-energy while recording? I’m exhausted.”

“Well I don’t usually do a whole game, or three, in one sitting,” Minho smiled back. “I know how to pace myself. You just went full ham. Should make good viewing though, you going batshit.”

Thomas pulled a face and they grinned together companionably.

“I’m really glad you liked Amnesia, though. It really means a lot to me. I was doing videos before it was released, but it was still super early days for me,” Minho mused, his eyes wandering around the room aimlessly as he talked. “I think it was before I got confident enough in my looks to have a facecam, actually. My voice was all different too.”

He fell quiet for a little while and Thomas didn’t interrupt, watching his thoughtful expression and wanting nothing more than to curl up on the couch with him. “And when Amnesia came out, it was such a gamechanger, you know? Like, playing it now, it doesn’t look as impressive graphically. But at the time? It was only what, four years ago but the engine was _so good_ , and it was a really thoughtful horror suspense game, way different from the other horror games at the time. It was really immersive, and the relationship you had with the monsters was all new. Before Amnesia it wasn’t really a _thing_ that you couldn’t look at the monsters, it made them so horrifying even though there’s only ever, like, a maximum of five on screen at any time. The second you hear that growl you start shitting your pants. I love Amnesia. Machine For Pigs not so much, Justine was really good, but the original is always the best.”

Minho sighed and smiled, rubbing lightly at his jaw.  “And YouTube fucking exploded, it felt like. Everybody was playing and making videos and suddenly the audience was so much bigger than the regular LP-watchers. People who had never watched gameplay were clicking because of people’s reactions. And then they stuck around, a lot of them. Gaming started really growing outside of this niche ‘weird part of YouTube’. It started being a community rather than just a platform. And I… I really needed a community. And there were all of a sudden all these people subscribing, commenting, saying they liked my videos and _me_ , and they wanted to see more… a couple years later and this is my main job. I have a _soundproofed room_ and all this tech, just for this stuff. I wouldn’t have any of this if it wasn’t for how people responded to my Amnesia videos. My life would be so different.”

Thomas sat quietly with him, then reached out and lightly wrapped his hand around Minho’s wrist. “I really liked playing Amnesia with you, Minho.”

“Cool,” Minho smiled down at his lap almost bashfully. “Thanks. I had a great time.” He turned his wrist after a moment and stroked his fingertips over the underside of Thomas’ wrist. “You wanna go outside and pet a dog or something?”

“Please, I can’t take much more of screens and monsters,” Thomas smiled back, and held onto his fingers as Minho turned off the camera and recording equipment, made sure all the raw footage was backed up and saved properly, then left the room.

Minho let go of his hand once they were in the kitchen, both squinting at the setting sun streaming harshly through the windows.

“Did… did we spend all day playing games?” Thomas asked dazedly.

“I think so. Wow. Good thing your midterms are over,” Minho said.

“Let’s just go for a walk, I need to feel the breeze and see sunlight.”

They headed out without much fuss, blinking in the bright sunset like baby giraffes from the opening number of The Lion King, and wandered the streets together aimlessly. The sky shone a clear blue streaked through with orange as the sun sank slowly to the horizon. Thomas closed his eyes and tilted his head back, enjoying the cool breeze that fluttered through his hair and slowly dissipated the heavy heat of the afternoon air. His trainers smacked quietly against the warm pavement and the city noises seemed quiet in comparison to Minho’s light footsteps and breathing beside him. There was nobody else around in this part of town, and they were far enough from the shops and main areas for the touristy nonsense not to bother them.

Minho paused in their silent wandering to get them both some drinks from a little café, as they were both dehydrated from all the yelling and talking.

They wound up at a park not too far from the university, though it was mostly empty. Thomas supposed the students were all out on the town or studying or something, and it was too close to the university for there to be lots of young families. They settled on a bench, though of course Minho insisted on perching like a dick, butt on the backrest and feet on the seat. Thomas rolled his eyes and lounged back next to him as they sipped and watched the air change around them.

Minho finished his drink before Thomas and tossed the bottle easily into the trashcan nearby. He casually rested his hand by Thomas’ neck on the back of the seat, close enough to stretch his fingers out and touch if he wanted. Just a little brush against the back of his neck, or into his hair, if they wanted. They didn’t, but the possibility hovered close in both their minds. They sat and watched the sun together in blissful quiet, ignoring all else around them.

Thomas thought about home, about the friends and family he’d left behind. He thought about the distance of Skype and videochats. He thought about the journey a parcel would take when he sent it to Chuck, the airmiles it would accumulate to stretch the distance. He thought about being alone in a strange city, in a strange country, and not knowing anyone for thousands of miles around. He thought about Newt’s offhanded gesture of inviting him out to the pub, the chance encounter with Alby and Minho. He thought of the odds of meeting somebody like that, especially somebody who was coming to mean so much to him. He let the what-ifs circulate. What if he’d never said hi to Newt at that first orientation meeting? What if they hadn’t become roommates? What if Newt had never invited him out to the pub? What if Minho had decided he was already late and there was no point turning up? He thought about how at home he felt around Minho, how natural it was to hang out and occupy the same space and time together and just enjoy it. He thought about how the homesickness was so much easier to bear when Minho smiled.

“I’m really glad I know you, Thomas,” Minho murmured reflectively after some time. “You really mean a lot to me. I just… wanted you to know that.”

His fingers extended just a little and Thomas tilted his head back into the shy touch. He smiled to himself and slowly released a deep breath. He thought he could fall in love with this moment, and never stop falling.

“You too, Minho. You too.”

-x-

“Nice wall,” Thomas commented, hands in his pockets as he looked over Alby’s wall of oddly-categorised games and books.  

“Thanks,” Alby called from the kitchen, where he was making them both a snack. Thomas thanked him and bit into the sandwich when Alby brought it through, trying not to look as awkward as he felt. He really hadn’t hung out with Alby like this before, without anyone else around. And it was on purpose this time, not just a pause where Newt and Minho were out of the room. It was an organised event, and Thomas had no idea how to talk to this guy.

They munched in strained silence for a few moments, avoiding looking at each other and looking instead at Alby’s wall.

“So. What sort of media do you want to cover in the video?” Thomas asked eventually.

Alby listed a few things and Thomas nodded along, already seeing how the script could be themed and the angles they could take on it. He couldn’t think of too much to add and the conversation petered out despite both their efforts.

“Jesus Christ,” Alby muttered eventually, rubbing over his scalp. “This is weird without Newt or Minho as a buffer, isn’t it.”

“A little,” Thomas laughed nervously. “We don’t really know each other all that well.”

“Okay, let’s fix that. Hi Thomas, I’m Alby. I have a big family, I like cooking, and I’m super into film critiques.”

Thomas grinned and shook his offered hand half-seriously. “Hi Alby, nice to meet you. I’m Thomas. I’m from London and I’m really interested in psychology, coffee dates with friends and long walks on the beach.”

Alby laughed, all perfect white teeth and sunshine. “Cool! So how do you feel about music? What makes you dance?”

They traded half-serious, terrible-first-date style questions and answers back and forth until they could both get out of their own heads enough to have a normal conversation. From there, it was surprisingly easy to segue into their opinions on recent films and TV series, and then onto a more serious conversation. Almost like real people. Amazing.

Alby leaned back against the couch and tossed a juggling ball back and forth between his hands as he rambled; Thomas propped his chin in his hand and nodded along in interest.

“I mean it’s such bullshit, all the time. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for a really well developed relationship with real chemistry and emotional weight. I love that shit. Realistic characters having realistic romances – amazing! But _sooo_ often, it’s just done all wrong. Like, they look at each other a few times, have a stupid oh-I-accidentally-saw-you-naked scene to establish how attractive they find each other – usually with really weird rape culture overtones about disregarding the woman’s space and privacy in particular, fucking male gaze bullshit. And then they snark at each other in a really mean way that’s supposed to be flirty, and then they’re suddenly fucking with no build up or emotional tie-in at all! And then it’s just an awkward five minutes of weird porn. Ugh. I love cinema, but I fucking hate cinema, you know.”

“And then nine times out of ten you get a scene of the morning after with the woman scantily dressed and wandering around in a boyfriend shirt,” Thomas agreed, waving his free hand vaguely as he talked. “I mean okay, I’ve never done that, but is it honestly comfortable to loaf around in somebody else’s used sweaty shirt without any underwear? It’s always such an excuse to ogle the female character as well, it’s not even subtle. And once they’ve cemented their ‘true love’ by having zero foreplay or emotional build up and just having really bland, five-minute sex, the guy usually gets all creeper and possessive and she loses _all_ character motivation and purpose other than driving his man-pain to the shops and back all season, or film, or whatever. No matter how awesome she was before, somehow the magical force of this dude’s painfully-average dick turns her into a sexy lamp. I hate it.”

Alby threw his hands in the air. “Exactly! There’s just so much emphasis on how having sex is the pinnacle of all relationships and you should aim to get there as fast as possible because sex is the only important thing.” He sighed and rubbed over his scalp some more, it seemed to be a nervous gesture. “And part of me is always torn because to me, sex is a _very_ emotional thing. It’s important, and it’s only something I can do with a partner I really, _really_ care about and trust. I wish there was more on screen about the vulnerability of sexual intimacy, and how it means different things to different people. Like, I’m demi. While having sex with my partner is _not_ a goal I’m shooting for, it’s a journey. And if we get there, it means I really connect with that person, and trust them with my boundaries, and that they mean a lot to me. But you pretty much never get that on screen at all, unless it’s about a rape survivor which is always handled hammily anyway. And I’m glad those narratives are available to survivors, but it would be nice to connect with something that doesn’t have to imply sexual hesitancy or vulnerability is because of being broken or traumatised or… whatever. And I _know_ it does happen, that people who are ace from trauma are just as valid as everyone else, and representation is good… I wish it wasn’t the _only_ narrative. I’m not explaining this well, am I?”

“No, no, I get it,” Thomas assured him. “I feel the same. I’m glad those stories are out there to help survivors, but it can be saddening if that’s the only way it’s ever presented. I’d love to see more stories about character relationships that aren’t sexual at all. Like, intimacy with your partner is the best fucking thing in the world. And I’m not a touchy person at _all_ , but holding my partner or having them hold me, is just…” Thomas sighed happily, goosebumps rippling along his arms involuntarily. “I want to see more of that. Of it not being about this rush to get your clothes off. About just being there with their partner and enjoying their presence. How holding their hand or touching their hair is more than just a casual gesture. About the real love and affection it shows, you know?”

“Mmhmm, mmhmm,” Alby nodded. “Wait, shit, we should write some of this down, get it organised for the video.”

“You think? It’s a bit personal, isn’t it?” Thomas hedged.

“Oh yeah, I just mean the general feeling of it so we can work it into meta on how some media go in the cliché direction, and what would be a better path for emotional development and character relations.”

“Oh, okay.”

Thomas took a long drink of water while Alby scribbled notes on their discussion.

“It’s nice to really vent this shit out with you,” He commented once his voice was working again. “Very therapeutic for my socially critical rage.”

Alby snorted. “This shit always gets me heated. It’s good to let it breathe instead of building up inside you,” Alby agreed.

Thomas waited until Alby was done writing. “Good?”

“Yep, got all the main points. Oh, _and another thing…_ ”

-x-

 _This girl is amazing,_ Brenda mused as she watched Teresa knock back four shots in a row without even flinching. _Holy shit._

Teresa turned to her, flushed from the heat of the club and the drinks she’d had already. “Beat that!”

Brenda grinned and gestured to the bartender. She privately had doubts about whether she could keep up but she was damned if she wasn’t going to try. One, two, three. Four. And… five. Oh god. The room was spinning and her stomach was on fire and everything smelled terrible. _Mistakes have been made._

“You okay sweetie?” Teresa slurred, resting an arm around her waist to steady her.

Brenda couldn’t help the giggle that slipped from her lips and leaned closer into Teresa. Her hair smelled really good. Like pears. And vanilla.

“I’m good,” Brenda replied. “Everything’s spinning, though.”

Teresa laughed and kissed her cheek lightly, a clumsy squash of nose and lips and cheek that set Brenda’s skin on fire. “Let’s get some air.”

Brenda started to nod, then had to stop because that made the room tilt alarmingly. Teresa kept hold of her hand as they weaved through the crowd, dodging costume parts and errant elbows as much as possible. They passed Thomas and Minho, who had identical grins on their faces as they danced close together, jumping to the beat of the music thundering up through the floor.

“Get it, Thomas!” Brenda laughed and jokingly slapped his ass as they passed.

She heard Thomas laugh and shout a half-hearted ‘fuck you!’ before they passed out of the crowd and into the night air of the balcony section of the club, jutting out into the LA night.

Brenda leaned against the railing and took slow breaths, enjoying the cool breeze on her skin and the heady buzz in her chest. She’d originally been dressed as Wonder Woman but had lost her cardboard props somewhere between the second and third round of drinks. At least the corset-like armor meant she had plenty of uncovered skin to cool down.

“Better?” Teresa asked, leaning with her. Her costume was ‘vampire Snow White’, apparently, but now her makeup was smudged and she’d eaten the apple she kinda just looked cute, in a drunken, smudgy way.

“Yeah, s’nice. Hey, let’s dance.”

The song changed to something slower with more bass, and the couples on the dancefloor started grinding. Teresa laughed and casually took Brenda’s hands, lifting their arms and dancing with slow rolls of her hips and back, swaying into the music and laughing like bells chiming. Brenda grinned and moved with her, stepping into her space. Teresa didn’t seem to mind. Brenda rested her arms on Teresa’s shoulders and felt the other girl hold onto her hips.

Brenda leaned up on her tiptoes just a bit – damn this girl was tall. “Hey, ‘Resa. Hey. I’m really glad I threw up in your garden.”

Teresa laughed so hard tears came to her eyes, and Brenda had to join her. Fuck, it was a nice night.

“Me too. We should hang out more sober, as well.”

“Fuck you, I’m a fantastic drunk!” Brenda protested.

“You are,” Teresa chuckled and lifted a hand through her hair. “You are, and I love partying with you, and I wanna hang out more when we’re not shitfaced. You’re cool, Bren. I wanna be your friend.”

“Oh.” Brenda didn’t really know what to say, other than _fuck yes_ , so she settled for skimming her hands down Teresa’s arms. “You’re pretty.”

“Thanks,” Teresa beamed. “Happy Halloween, Brenda.”

“Hell yeah!”

-x-

“I don’t know if you’re a masochist or a sadist,” Thomas groaned and weakly tried to cover his face with his pillow – which apparently had been one of Minho’s hoodies. It smelled like the curry they’d had before going out with everybody last night.

“The word is sadomasochistic, and it’s not accurate,” Minho replied as he strode around the living room and shoved open all the curtains. “C’mon, I know a great hangover cure.”

“How much did we drink last night?” Thomas groaned as his stomach lurched unpleasantly.

“A lot.” Minho was looking a little rough around the edges as well, for all that he was already dressed. “Good night, though.”

“American Halloween’s amazing,” Thomas muttered. “Oh my god, I think I’m still drunk. I haven’t even reached hungover yet.”

“Oh boy. You’re gonna have a fun day.”

“Minho, I want to die.”

“Don’t be so melodramatic.”

“Please get me to the bathroom before I vomit all over your couch.”

“Alright soldier, let’s get you up,” Minho smiled. “Clench your teeth. If you throw up on me, I’ll never forgive you.”

“I make no promises.”

Minho hauled him upright with ease and escorted him quickly to the bathroom while Thomas groaned. His head was pounding, stomach was in flux and everything hurt.

“Did Brenda smack my ass last night?”

“I think so,” Minho grinned.

“Remind me to steal her hat,” Thomas muttered. His stomach made an ominous surging. “Bathroom, bathroom!”

Minho shook his head as Thomas crouched over the toilet bowl just in time, looking miserable. “This is a pretty extreme way to get out of a morning run, y’know.”

Thomas just groaned.

“I’m gonna make you a Bloody Mary.”

“You’re a saint.”

Much later in the day, when Thomas had sobered up considerably, Minho peeked into the darkened spare room where Thomas had been napping.

“How you doin’, champ?”

“I feel like I got the full college experience and I never want to do it again.”

Minho snorted. “C’mon, last night was tame. You just shouldn’t drink, you lightweight.”

“…I’m not in any position to argue with that.”

“Do you want anything to eat?”

“Mm, I think I could eat. Tea and toast, maybe?”

Minho smiled. “Alright, sit tight.”

-x-

 _How is this my life_ , Thomas wondered as he watched Minho do press-ups effortlessly on Alby’s floor.

“You call this a challenge video?” He sassed them in between reps. His back was straight and his form was perfect as his arms and shoulders worked under the t-shirt in smooth bunching motions. “C’mon, Newt, this is barely hard at all.”

“Fuck you,” Newt grinned from where he was flopped on the floor, already defeated. His arms shook weakly but he couldn’t rise into another press-up. Minho just kept on going.

Alby laughed from behind the camera and Thomas helped Newt to his feet. To add insult to injury, Minho started doing claps between each press, catching himself easily as he fell back towards the floor and rising again.

“Okay, that’s it,” Newt announced. “You smug asshole. Tommy, sit on him. Let’s see if he can press both your weight.”

“I could do this all day,” Minho grinned.

As Newt and Alby cheered, Thomas sat down on Minho’s back and drew his legs up off the floor, balancing on Minho’s shoulderblades. Minho huffed a bit but kept going, pushing off from the floor in controlled motions.

“Holy shit,” Alby muttered, impressed.

“You dared to doubt my guns,” Minho grunted, though his face was going red. “You still filming, Alby?”

“Uh huh. Christ, Minho.”

“You’re a very comfortable seat,” Thomas told him and patted his hair.

“Thanks man. Though you’re _heavy_.”

“It’s all your fault for taking me running and cooking for us all the time,” Thomas teased and played with his hair.

“You’re too skinny, that’s why,” Minho panted as he kept going. “Stop that, dude, you’re gonna make me flop.”

“What?” Thomas grinned. “This?” He threaded his fingers through Minho’s short, soft hair and tickled the back of his neck.

Minho shrieked and slammed to the floor with a pained grunt. Thomas laughed and sat on the floor with him instead. “Are you actually really ticklish?”

“No,” Minho said sullenly. “And don’t you fucking dare touch me.”

Thomas heard a snort and turned to see Alby and Newt both trying really hard not to laugh, hands over their mouths and shoulders shaking with suppressed glee.

“You two are fucking incredible,” Alby choked, tears coming to his eyes. “Oh my God.”

“What?” Thomas asked in confusion.

“Oh, nothing, nothing,” Newt waved his hand, face red.

“Well when you two stop being so fuckin’ shady, shall we get on with the next challenge?” Minho suggested with a grin and he sprang to his feet. He reached down and pulled Thomas up with one arm.

“Okay, okay. So seein’ as I lost that one so shamefully, what’s my penalty?” Newt asked with hands on his hips.

“Ooh, I know! You have to suffer through Thomas trying to do your makeup for you!” Alby grinned, and Newt’s expression could only be described as unadulterated horror.

“Alby, you terrible human being. Why would you do this to me?”

“I’m sensing a definite lack of faith in this room,” Thomas said with raised eyebrows. “What makes you think I’ll be so bad at it? It can’t be _that_ hard.”

Both Newt and Minho snorted disbelievingly. “This should be good,” Minho muttered.

“Okay, let’s move to the couch for this. Newt, get your stuff.”

Newt grumbled but retrieved his makeup bag from Alby’s bathroom while Alby and Minho set up the camera and tripod properly; Newt would edit out the transition later.

“Okay, you have to do a full face of makeup on Newt without any help or instruction,” Alby grinned. “Good fucking luck.”

Thomas opened the small toiletries bag and pulled out a handful of oddly-shaped tubes, brushes and implements. They just… kept on going. Like Mary Poppins’ bag, there was always more at the bottom.

He looked at them for a few moments, then up at his grinning friends. “Alby, you evil bastard. Okay, um… first step is… eyes?”

“Oh yeah, sure,” Alby nodded with apparent sincerity. Thomas squinted doubtfully at him. It seemed like a sensible place to start to him, but from the looks on their faces he guessed he was dead wrong.

“Fuck it,” Thomas muttered and sorted through the tubes until he found what looked like a soft pencil. “Newt, if I poke you in the eye I’m so sorry.”

Newt gave a long-suffering sigh and looked up at the ceiling, holding as still as possible and trying not to look nervous. Thomas leaned in with the pencil jittering in his naïve hand.

“I feel like there should be Saw music playing,” Alby grinned.

“Shut up, Alby,” Newt said. “Tommy, c’mon, let’s just get this over with.”

Thomas bit his lip and carefully swiped the pencil under Newt’s eyelashes, where he thought it should go. The line was shaky and smudgy and trailed down his cheek regardless.

Minho sniggered loudly.

“Like you could do better!”

“Move aside,” Minho smiled and plucked the pencil from Thomas’ fingers. He held Newt’s chin in his free hand and braced his pinky finger on Newt’s cheekbone as he drew a smooth line on Newt’s other eye, following the waterline carefully and flicking up a wing at the corner, 2008-style. He frowned in concentration and kept going, darkening the line and giving him a surprisingly good smoky eye.

“Wow,” Thomas said, looking at Minho in surprise. “Dude.”

“Huh? What?” Minho said when he was done, blinking at his friends.

“How’d you know how to do that?”

Minho glanced quickly at Alby before replying, almost too fast for Thomas to catch. “Uh. I was raised by lesbians, you pick up a few things.”

Alby smiled and slung an arm around Minho’s shoulders. “Minho’s a man of many talents, Thomas, get used to it.”

“Alright, alright,” Thomas smiled back. “Do I really have to continue doing the makeup?”

“Yes!” All three said together.

Thomas groaned and picked up a tube of what looked like skin-toned paint. He looked at the pile of apparently miniature and oddly-shaped paintbrushes. One and one make two, right?

Judging from Newt’s apprehensive expression, maybe not.

-x-

Minho rolled his neck and stretched his fingers as the file loaded on his computer. Time to get down to some serious editing; he’d done a big batch of recording the past few days, probably about ten hours’ worth of footage. And now it all needed to be edited together with the sound adjusted, the facecam synced and added to the corner, and any special effects and tweaks put in. Never mind making thumbnails and processing for upload to YouTube.

“I’m doing a coffee run,” Thomas announced from across the room. “Anyone want anything?”

“We need more cereal,” Minho said, though he was distracted by the video files loading up on the screen.

“Alright, cereal. Newt, Alby? You want?”

They gave answers Minho wasn’t listening to as he slipped on his headphones and started scanning through the audio waveforms, looking for peaks and lows to adjust and smooth out. He vaguely heard more conversation and the door locking but he really wasn’t paying attention.

Sometime later a Starbucks cup appeared by his mouse mat and he sipped without thinking about it – he was busy making sure everything was synced and re-watching everything to flag up moments for more editing later. Food appeared in a similar manner and was consumed without any thought, he just kept going.

Eventually he had to stop as his bladder was screaming. He hit Save a few times and took off his headphones.

“Holy shit, you’re alive,” Alby commented from the couch. “Way to zone out, dude. Rude.”

“I was working,” Minho yawned, looking around his living room. Alby was writing in one of his notebooks, probably sketching out plans for the video he was making with Thomas, who was sitting on the floor in the corner surrounded by textbooks and just as oblivious to everybody as Minho had been. Newt was on his laptop on one of the beanbags, typing away. It looked like an assignment, or it could have been a videoscript. Or a novel, or fanfiction, for all Minho knew. He didn’t know all that much about Newt, he reflected guiltily.

He slipped out to the bathroom and while he was relieving himself, he tried to think of how to start a conversation. Alby was his best friend, after all, Minho knew he should really make an effort to get to know Alby’s boyfriend. While he knew he wouldn’t have to pull the ‘hurt him and I’ll hurt you’ spiel – Newt was very nice, after all – it would make Alby happy. And Newt was cool, anyway. It was just a shame that up until now, Newt and Alby and he and Thomas had been so wrapped up in each other, respectively, that he and Newt hadn’t had much time on their own.

Minho nodded firmly at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. _Let’s do this, son. Super friendship time. Let’s make this triangle a square._ He blinked at himself. _That made no sense whatsoever. What the fuck ever, just go and be friendly already. Christ._

He dropped onto the floor by Newt, who looked a bit startled by the company. Minho grinned and nodded towards his screen. “Whatcha working on?”

“I’m doin’ outlines for my next few videos,” Newt replied and moused over the documents to show him. “This one’s on a new bit of research about highly tensile and fully biodegradable carbon sheets – you mould a sheet around a broken bone, for example, and it holds it in place until it’s fully healed, even stronger and more load-bearing than most metals, then degrades naturally into the body. And it’s just carbon, so there’s no toxicity or even any significant inflammatory response. No staples, metal pins, or invasive multiple surgeries. Just a little carbon gel. It’s amazing, I’ve been reading up on it for a while but this study just published some new data about the rate of degradation and the immune response to larger gels, it’s incredible.”

“Wow,” Minho said, eyebrows raised. He skimmed over the document Newt was writing, which had the main points of the research bullet pointed and cross-indexed with things Newt wanted to say, miniature scripts added on the end and links to other research papers. “That’s… it just degrades? It doesn’t need to be stimulated, or – uh – broken down by like… those laser things they use on kidney stones?”

“Nope!” Newt grinned back and opened his browser to show Minho the paper. “It’s literally just carbon, in a special configuration, so it doesn’t need an ultrasound pulse or radiation or anything to break down. Eventually the enzymes, acids and natural fluids of the tissue will help it start to degrade, and then macrophages and other white cells will start digesting the fragments until it’s all gone. Cool, right?”

“So it could hold broken bones together,” Minho surmised as he scanned through the papers with Newt. “Could it help with tissue regrowth as well? Like… say after a bypass or something? Could it help the nerves in a transplanted organ connect properly?”

“They haven’t really done in-depth studies into that yet, as far as I can tell, but the possibility is definitely there,” Newt nodded. “Technology’s amazing.”

“And you’re gonna make a video explaining that?”

“Mmhmm. I always think it’s so annoyin’ that so many people have this attitude that science is really hard and mysterious and it’s just scientists messing with things for no reason. It really pisses me off, actually. But that’s not just general ignorance, any scientific field is full of jargon that it takes years to understand, and it’s hard to explain to someone without any training in the field. So that’s what I try to do in this series – I try and actually explain somethin’ really interesting, so people without any scientific knowledge can understand what it’s about and why it’s so fucking _cool_ and that research is really exciting and important and _everybody_ should be interested. Yeah. I like that shit.”

“It’s some good shit, man,” Minho grinned. “What’s the other outline for? Is that for a vlog?”

“Ah, no, that particular one’s for another explanation video. There’s a lot of cool research out at the minute. No, this one’s about a new method of DNA sequencing that’s been in the works for a while now. Previous ones have been all about base pair reading on a substrate – ah, sorry – like, DNA being stuck onto something solid, and then having reagents thrown at it. Y’know how DNA is made of four bases that make two pairs? AT and GC? Well, because they only bind like that, if you take the original strand and fragment it, you can find out the whole sequence from what binds next to each particular fragment. Does that make sense?”

Minho frowned at the ceiling for a moment. “It’s a bit over my head, but go on. I’ll look it up later.”

“I did a bunch of videos on DNA, I’ll link you. But anyway, previous methods all relied on the DNA being fixed on something, and then washed with reagents and free bases to make up the strands. It used to be gels in the old Sanger days, and then moved to capillary tubes and gel bead matrices and all sorts. But this new method’s completely different, it’s using a natural cellular membrane ion gates. D’you know what those are?”

Minho was feeling rather out of his depth at this point but rather than feel self-conscious and slow like usual, there was something so genuinely enthusiastic in Newt’s rambling, such an unpretentious drive to share knowledge as freely as possible, he didn’t feel ashamed of not knowing any of this.  He shook his head and got comfy on the floor.

“Tell me.”

“Right, so all mammalian cells have a lipid bilayer membrane, which has all sorts of proteins and sugars and general _stuff_ wedged in there. The stuff on the outside are generally receptors so the cell can communicate with other cells, receive nerve and immune signals, stuff like that. Stuff on the inside transmit those signals into the cell, or process proteins to be packaged up and released into the tissue. And straddling both layers are channels, usually controlled by the levels of ions – chemicals with a particular charge – on the inside and outside of the cell. So if a protein wants to pass into the cell, it’ll nudge into the channel, and if there’s enough free ions of the right sort to bind in with it, the channel changes shape, and the protein passes through. This usually gives off another charge in response inside the cell, as the ions can get taken inside as well. With me so far?”

Minho paid attention to Newt’s hand gestures and felt a grin growing on his face. Newt made it seem so much cooler and more interesting than any teacher he’s ever had. “Yep, keep going.”

“Cool! So, that’s generally how ion gates work, mostly. So, how the frickin’ fuck does this relate to DNA sequencing? Well I’m glad you asked.” Newt shifted to sit up more in the beanbag, his face alight with the excitement of getting to share this knowledge with somebody. Minho found himself sitting up as well and nodding along.

“Well, if you feed a strand of spilt-apart DNA into one of these specialised gates in a solution of free bases, it’ll match up the bases by that complementary thing I was saying before, and then it’ll pass that paired base through the membrane, emitting a particular ion for each base pair configuration. And because ions are positive and negative, if you hook that membrane up to a simple pH or electric meter, you get a digital readout of each base. Like, uhhh I dunno, maybe a G paired with a C gives a single positive emission. Then a T paired with an A gives a double negative emission. You can see that as a line on a graph, imagine that. And the best part is, biological membranes are some of the fastest, most efficient cellular processing motherfuckers evolved. _Ever_. So this is happening incredibly fast, way faster than any wholly-artificial method we have so far, with much less waste, a really simple readout that’s easily converted to digital, and it’s just…!” Newt waved his hands excitedly. “It’s so cool!”

“Yeah!” Minho enthused. “But, just, back up a sec. Isn’t pH to do with acidity? I remember that much from school, anyway. What does that have to do with ions?”

As Newt started explaining how acidity is a measure of the concentration of hydrogen ions, Alby smiled fondly from across the couch as he watched his two favourite people spend time together, blending his worlds together beautifully.

-x-

“I’m not actually late this time!”

“You’re not, it’s wonderful,” Alby smiled. He bent down to kiss Newt’s cheek and brushed his fingers along Newt’s jaw affectionately. Newt smiled up at him and casually curled his fingers around one of Alby’s beltloops, keeping him close.

“So, where are we going?”

“I thought we could go to the art gallery the next block over, if you wanted. Or wander round the shops if you didn’t.”

“Does this count as a date?” Newt asked with a grin.

Alby rolled his eyes but smiled regardless. “Sure. Are we still keeping count?”

“ _I_ certainly am, and I’m mighty offended you’re not,” Newt teased. “The art gallery sounds good. It’ll be nice to look at things without having to memorise them.”

“Are they still working you hard even after midterms?” Alby asked as they started walking, fingers tangling together contentedly.

“Uh huh, you bet. I get the feeling there’ll be loads of holiday work for Christmas as well.”

“Ugh, it’s still early November, don’t start with the Christmas stuff already,” Alby griped. “It’s bad enough everywhere’s already hyped about Thanksgiving and all that.”

“I thought you were an American guy, Alby, aren’t you interested in that stuff?”

Alby stuck his tongue out at Newt, who squeezed his hand. “Eh. I like seeing my family and having a big meal together, but I’m not fussed. Besides, Minho gets really loud and shouty about it, he watches the football with his Mom. And blows up my phone about it just to annoy me.”

Newt refrained from asking which ‘mom’ Alby was referring to, and instead started swinging their hands gently between them as they walked. The bracelet on Aby’s wrist clinked against Newt’s, and he looked down.

“You’re wearing it,” Newt remarked in a soft voice.

“Hm? Of course, I love it. And you got it for me, why wouldn’t I want to wear it?” Alby smiled, looking down at the ace-colours bracelet he’d barely taken off since Newt bought it for him. Newt stopped walking, frowning down at his feet and chewing his lip. “What’s up, Newt?”

“I kind of really want to kiss you super hard right now and I can’t remember if that’s okay or not.”

Alby grinned and a happy flush worked through his chest, filling him up and making his hands tingle. “I think I’ll allow it, this once.”

“Thank fuck for that,” Newt muttered, and leaned up on his tiptoes to cup Alby’s cheeks. They grinned at each other for a second before their lips met with a gentle pressure, pressing and tasting and enjoying. Alby eased his arms around Newt’s waist to pull him closer, not giving a single fuck about the other people in the street. Newt’s fingers traced lightly down Alby’s neck and he sighed quietly, his breath ghosting over Alby’s cheek. Their noses bumped and they had to pull back a bit to giggle.

“Are we still going to the art gallery?” Newt murmured, eyes bright.

“Yes,” Alby chuckled. “It’s our, what…. Fifteenth date now? Can’t just back out of that.”

“I _knew_ you were keepin’ count as well!”

Alby kissed his nose in reply, loving the small scattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose from all the sunny LA weather. He eased his hands down Newt’s sides and let them rest on his hips.

“I like this, by the way,” Alby said, plucking gently at the frilly skirt. “It looks very sweet on you.”

“Thank you,” Newt beamed. He was wearing a tank top and leggings as well as the skirt; he didn’t like to show his prosthetic in public in case people stared.

“I’m amazed you’re not cold,” Alby said; he was in long sleeves and sturdy jeans already.

“This is balmy summer weather for Cardiff, doesn’t feel like November to me,” Newt shrugged. “I’d overheat if I dressed for a Cardiff November.”

“Fair enough.” Alby kissed his nose again, then stepped back. Newt kept hold of his hand as they continued down the sidewalk.

“Do you think it’s too much, sometimes?”

“What are we talking about, Newt?”

“The way I dress.”

“No?” Alby scratched behind his ear. “I think it’s wonderful you dress the way you want without worrying about the intended gender of it. I love your style, I think you look great.”

“Sometimes I feel like… I dunno. ‘Cause I’m _male_ , I identify as male, I’m cis. Like, maybe, because I’m literally a boy in a dress, I’m making it harder for trans girls to fight that concept? And non-binary people as well, like… I dunno. Sometimes I feel like it’s not my place.”

Alby rubbed his thumb gently over the back of Newt’s as he thought. “I think,” he said slowly, “That breaking down the gender categories of clothing in itself, of claiming a dress or a skirt as yours as a man, that’s pretty radical on its own. And honey, I love that you’re always so focussed on these things, I really do. You amaze me, all the time.” Alby paused to lean down and kiss the top of his hair and said, very gently, “But not every single thing you do has to be political. You can just enjoy how you look and feel wearing a skirt sometimes, without worrying what it does for The Greater Cause. Y’know? That’s how I feel, anyway.”

“You’re so steady,” Newt replied after a few minutes, almost a non-sequitur. “I feel like you’re… like a rock in a stormy ocean. My rock. If that’s not too buggin’ cheesy.”

“It’s horrendously cheesy,” Alby said, his cheeks feeling warm. “But I appreciate it.”

“You’re so fucking chill all the time.”

“That’s more like it. And yeah, well, anger management’ll do that,” Alby half-joked.

Newt leaned in to press their arms together for a moment in silent support.

“Ah, I didn’t mean to… bring it down,” Alby muttered, embarrassed. “It was lovely, what you said. I really appreciate that you feel that way. Almost especially, with my history, and everything. It feels good to know I can be steady now.”

Newt squeezed his hand gently. “You’ve come a really long way, and I’m very proud of you. I know your family is proud, too.”

“Thanks.” Alby coughed to clear his throat and smiled widely. “You’re a sweetheart. Shall we go in? There’s just so much art begging to be ogled.”

“Let the ogling begin,” Newt laughed as they stepped inside the gallery.

Later, when they were taking a break for Newt’s leg in the little restaurant in the gallery, happily sipping coffee and munching on cake, Alby gathered up his guts and managed to broach the topic he’d been trying to segue into for some time now.

“So, uh, Thanksgiving.”

A very smooth segue. Practically electric-powered.

“What about it?” Newt asked as he stirred his drink. “I thought you said you weren’t really into it?”

“I’m not,” Alby shrugged and fiddled with the crumbs on his plate, sweeping them into a pile and nudging them around with his fingertips. “But it’s a good time to get together with my family. We’re all kind of scattered now a couple of us are grown up. My siblings, I mean.”

“Mmhmm?”

“Yeah. So I’ll be heading home for a week or so during Thanksgiving.”

“I thought you might be. It’s okay, I’ll hang out with Tommy, catch up with him a bit.”

“Yeah, well. You might not have to?” Alby sighed and rubbed at his temple. “I’m not saying this right. My parents are letting my older brother bring his girlfriend down for the weekend, so… the offer’s there. If you want to meet my family for a couple days.”

There was a beat of silence.

“I mean, if you don’t wanna it’s absolutely fine, there’s no pressure at all. If it’s too soon, or too weird, or too much, I get it completely. I just thought, with Thanksgiving coming up, it would be an opportunity. If you wanted. And you wouldn’t be the only guest, so it wouldn’t be awkward…” Alby forced himself to shut up.

Newt was looking down at his plate, his expression flickering between different states. Alby didn’t know how to interpret any of them. So he waited nervously, his leg jogging under the table.

“You… you want me to meet your family?” Newt asked eventually. His voice was small and uncertain and he wouldn’t look up.

Alby nodded and swallowed to clear the lump in his throat. “If you want that too.”

“You think I’m important enough to introduce to your parents and brothers and sisters?”

Was that colour in Newt’s cheeks? Maybe.

“Yeah. Yeah, Newt, I do. You mean so much to me.” Alby reached across to hesitantly touch Newt’s hand.

“But – but it’s been such a short time…”

“I guess, technically. But we’ve known each other for years, right?”

“Mm.” Newt took a shaky breath and raised his other hand to rub at his face. “Fuck, I’m not good with surprises. Just… gimme a minute.”

Alby nodded and chewed on his lip. “I didn’t mean to pressure you with this, I’m sorry.”

“I know. It’s not your fault. It’s just a big thing to ask, and I wasn’t expecting it. I need a minute to think.”

“You don’t need to reply at all,” Alby assured him. “Like, you could make your decision the day before Thanksgiving and that would be fine. Take your time.”

Newt absently played with Alby’s fingers as he thought. Alby finished his drink slowly and watched the water fountain in the courtyard trickle and splash, cycling over and over in a repetitive, soothing burble. He watched the light from the open top of the courtyard filter down through layers of coloured glass to make a mosaic, ever-shifting patina on the floor. He thought of the paintings and sculptures they’d seen so far, and the wings left to see. He thought of sitting Newt down with his parents and talking about nothing of importance. He thought about, most importantly, how he wanted Newt to be happy and secure and safe with him, and not feel frightened or distressed about anything.

“I’m sorry I can’t do the excited ‘oh my god yes!’ response that would probably make you really happy,” Newt said quietly, watching the fountain too.

“You don’t need to apologise for that,” Alby reassured.

“I’m just gonna state how I’m feeling because I can’t really process it right now, but I don’t want you to think I don’t care, and I don’t want you to think it’s not important to me. I just need to say it out loud to sort through it.”

“Okay,” Alby nodded and squeezed his hand.

“My immediate feeling is panic. I don’t wanna make a bad impression on your family – you mean so fuckin’ much to me, and I would never wanna cause trouble if your family don’t like me. I feel like we’ve only been together properly a really short time. I feel overwhelmed you think so much of me. Though that’s pretty much a constant, I guess.” Newt smiled weakly and took another deep breath. “I wanna say yes and make you happy but I also feel really goddamn stressed about meetin’ all your family. I feel angry and ashamed of myself that it ain’t an easy decision when it should be, and I know it was difficult for you to ask and wait on my reply like this. I’m frustrated I can’t think clearly about it because when I think about meeting them, and them not likin’ me, it’s not a good feeling. Brings up bad things. So. That’s how I’m feeling right now. Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologise at all,” Alby said quietly. He lifted Newt’s hand and cradled it in both of his own. “Thank you for sharing how you’re feeling with me. I understand, and I’m not upset. Yes, I want you to meet them, but only ever in an environment where you’d feel happy and comfortable. You don’t need to make any decisions right now, at all. Okay?”

Newt nodded and took a gulp of his rapidly cooling coffee, avoiding Alby’s eyes and blinking rapidly.

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” Alby said again, trying on a smile. “I’m pretty much the posterchild for repressing emotions until they explode, so I really get that it’s hard just saying them calmly out loud. And I really respect you sharing with me. I promise I’m not upset or disappointed in you, or your response.”

“Cool,” Newt sighed and smiled back at him. “Super communication, yay.”

Alby grinned self-consciously. “It’s important. I like things to be clear and in the open and you like categorising things until they make sense. Seems good to me.”

“…I guess that’s true. Huh.”

“Newt, we _literally_ have an extensive, cross-referenced table about our explicit physical needs and how they meet and compromise. You can’t say that assessment’s unwarranted.”

“I’m not, I guess I hadn’t thought about it like that before,” Newt shrugged with a smile. “It doesn’t bother you, does it?”

“No,” Alby shook his head. “I like it a lot, actually. Your weird fits with my weird.”

“A true romantic.”

“Would you not call this a magical art date?” Alby grinned and gestured at the courtyard. “I’m super romantic, excuse you.”

“True, true, I retract my earlier statement and request it to be redacted from the record,” Newt teased back. “Okay, charmer, sweep me off my feet and show me the rest of this place. And I’d better be _swooning_ on the floor by the end of it or your romantic credentials will be invalid.”

“Well, I do like a challenge,” Alby said with a grin as they got up from their table. He held out his hand and Newt took it happily, lacing their fingers together and squishing his palm tightly. Warm and tight and so infinitely precious.

-x-

“Americans are weird,” Thomas observed seriously to Newt as they sat watching the mayhem of mall shopping the week before Thanksgiving. “It’s not even Black Friday.”

“I’m so sick of turkey already.”

They raised their takeout burgers from some local chain they’d never heard of high in the air in a mutual salute to the superiority of beef.

“Honestly, I’m surprised it’s not worse. I’ve heard so many horror stories,” Newt said as he sipped his soda.

“I kind of want to just stand outside the shopping centre – sorry, _mall_ ,” he corrected himself exaggeratedly, and they grinned at each other. “Stand outside the mall and just watch it all unfold on Black Friday. Like, get up early and camp out at six AM just to watch the madness. I wanna see if the mayhem’s true or just an elaborate cultural lie.”

“Mm, let me know how that goes.”

“What, you’re not gonna camp out with me?” Thomas raised his eyebrows. “What the hell, Newt? I thought we were friends.”

“Any other day I’d be all for it,” Newt said with a quick smile. “But, uh. I dunno. I might not be here on Thanksgiving. Maybe.”

“By ‘here’, you mean…?”

“LA.”

“Oh. Where you going?”

Newt kicked his feet a bit under the bench they were sitting on and worked on folding up the empty wrapper of his burger. “Don’t freak out. Alby _may_ have asked me to come home with him and meet his family. Possibly.”

Thomas frowned. “Why would I freak out?”

“I’m freaking out.”

“Oh.” Thomas lightly rested his hand on Newt’s back between his shoulderblades. “Okay. Like, to Meet-The-Parents, kind of thing?”

“Not really?” Newt replied, folding the greasy paper smaller and smaller. “He said it would be very casual, that his brother would be bringing his girlfriend as well so it wouldn’t just be me, it wouldn’t be awkward or formal or anything.”

“That’s not too scary,” Thomas encouraged. “Okay, a little bit. But not as bad as a fancy, sit-down dinner with black tie, right?”

“Mm.”

Thomas rubbed over his back gently. “You haven’t told him for definite yet?”

“He said to take as much time as I needed. Like, could leave it until the day he drives down, basically.”

“He is the most chill boyfriend ever.”

“Mmhmm,” Newt twitched a smile.

They sat quietly for a few minutes.

“So… d’you want my opinion or just to know you might be going?” Thomas asked.

“I dunno, really. D’you have an opinion on it?”

Thomas chewed the inside of his lip for a moment. “Can’t hurt, right? Could be fun. They’re nice people, from what I’ve heard. And lots of food. I guess I don’t really see why you’re freaking out, sorry. Is it because you think you and Alby aren’t that serious and meeting the family is making it more serious?”

Newt shook his head. “No, I think we’re serious. Oh God, d’you think that’s what Alby thinks I think?”

Thomas puzzled that through for a moment. “No, I think it’s obvious how serious you both are about each other. Relax a bit. So what are you actually worried about?”

Newt shredded the wrapper into tiny pieces of confetti. “I guess… I want them to like me. And I would want to be myself and not pretend I’m something I’m not. But how many parents d’you know who’d understand about boys wearing makeup or dresses? And vlogging, and stuff like that? Would I have to tell them about my leg, about my history?”

Thomas covered Newt’s shaking hands in his own. “Newt, look at me. You’re a wonderful person. Alby loves you. He wouldn’t let his family start any shit – they’d better just love you as much as he does, he’d make damn sure of it. And even if by some fucked-up chance they don’t like you at first, Alby wouldn’t let that change anything, and there’ll always be time to show them how amazing you are at another time. Okay?”

Newt took a few deep breaths and nodded to himself. “Okay. Fuck. Thanks, Tommy. You’re a good friend.”

“Um, I’m a _great_ friend,” Thomas smiled and squeezed Newt’s hand. “Do you wanna talk about it some more?”

“No, I think that helped, though. I’ll think some more ‘bout it. Sorry for like…makin’ it all about me.”

“You’re not though?”

“No, I mean – we were supposed to just be hanging out today, just us. ‘Cause I’ve been so busy with Alby and you’re practically living ‘round Minho’s these days. Just Newt and Tommy time.”

“This is also good Newt and Tommy time,” Thomas smiled. “Talking to each other, about things we care about. Almost like we value each other or something.”

Newt snorted and sat up straighter on the bench. “Alright, control your sass. God, you’ve been hanging out with Minho too much.”

Thomas shrugged with a grin. “I guess his sense of humour rubbed off a bit.”

“So what’s going on with you two?” Newt asked, not even trying to be subtle.

“Hm? We’re friends.”

Newt raised a single eyebrow.

“Control _your_ sass.”

“Hey, you prodded me mercilessly about Alby, it’s about time I returned the favour.”

Thomas sighed and deliberately looked off to the side as if to an invisible camera. “I came out to have a good time and honestly I’m feeling so attacked right now.”

Newt rolled his eyes. “Alright, alright. I don’t know why you two are so cagey about it though.”

“There’s nothing to be cagey about. We’re friends. I mean yeah, we’re close and we hang out a lot, but we’re not dating or anything like that. I don’t get why you and Alby keep trying to matchmake so hard.” Thomas replied. Honestly, he was starting to feel more than a little uncomfortable with this topic.

Newt looked at him for a minute, then smiled and raised his hands. “Okay Tommy, sorry. I’ll stop being a dick about it. Although, speaking of the mysterious travesty of your love life, how’s things with Teresa post-kiss?”

“They’re alright,” Thomas shrugged. “It’s been a bit awkward, but nothing too bad. She’s been hanging out with Brenda a lot, actually.”

“Huh.”

“They seem like they’re having fun anyway,” Thomas smiled. “Teresa’s actually invited me over to her, Rachel and Aris’ place for Thanksgiving dinner.”

“Nice of her. Don’t they all have families to go back to over break, though?” Newt asked.

Thomas put his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t ask too closely, but I think Rachel doesn’t want to go home, and Aris and Teresa are staying to keep her company.”

“Ah.” Newt said, and delicately let the subject drop.

“Teresa invited Brenda as well apparently, but she’s going home for a couple days. So it’ll be the psychology crew dinner.” Thomas smiled after a minute. “Should be fun.”

“Yeah,” Newt smiled as well. “You’ll have to take lots of pictures for your Instagram.”

“Well obviously,” Thomas grinned. “Chuck checks it every so often to see what I’m up to, of course I’m gonna post all the food.”

“Good.”

“And speaking of Instagram,” Thomas pulled out his phone. “C’mon. Say something inspirational.”

“What?” Newt grinned as Thomas aimed the camera at him. “Alright, alright, uh… seize the sunrise! Scream at a bird, relax in the rain. Drink milk.”

They held each other’s gaze for a good few seconds before bursting into laughter.

-x-

Newt settled into the passenger seat of Alby’s rented car, rubbing over his knees nervously.

“You okay, honey?” Alby asked as he closed the driver-side door. “If you’ve changed your mind it’s okay, you don’t have to come.”

Newt took a deep breath and ran his fingers through the loose sheet of his hair. “I’m okay. Just a bit nervous that I’ll be meeting your folks in a couple hours.”

“As long as you’re sure. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” Alby frowned.

“I know, you’re really sweet.” Newt smiled across at him and lifted Alby’s hand off the gearstick. He lifted it towards his lips and kissed gently over each knuckle and joint, then held it to his cheek and breathed deeply, eyes closed. “I care about you so much, Alby. You mean the world to me.”

“Newt, you…” Alby said indistinctly. “You’re the most – the best – my… ah, fuck it.” He leaned over and kissed Newt slowly, treasuring each tiny shift of pressure and the scent of Newt’s shampoo and the achingly, wonderfully familiar feel of his mouth. Newt made a small noise and leaned up into him, his hand dropping to Alby’s neck, feeling his quick but steady pulse under his warm skin. Alby braced a hand on Newt’s thigh and nudged his nose against Newt’s cheek as they kissed, earning a smile. Newt pressed closer, trying to ignore the centre console and gearstick digging into his ribs. He pulled gently on Alby’s full lower lip and let himself drift in the warmth of their kiss, thinking that he was so lucky, so lucky, so lucky…

Alby’s hand rubbed slow circles on Newt’s thigh, a comforting weight that slowly moved up to hold his hip. Alby tried to pull him closer but there just wasn’t space. Alby sighed against Newt’s jaw.

“I want to hold you close and keep kissing for ages,” he murmured. “But there’s all this car in the way.”

Newt laughed quietly and stroked up and down the side of his neck fondly, tickling under his ear. “That’s one of my favourite things to do,” he agreed. “But I think we have places to be, sweetheart.”

Alby huffed and tilted his head to kiss gently down Newt’s neck, brushing his hair back with a caress. “’Sweetheart’?”

“Not a good one?”

Alby smiled into his neck and traced over Newt’s hipbone, just jutting out above his jeans. “I could get used to it.”

Newt chuckled and rested his cheek against the top of Alby’s head, stroking rhythmically over his neck from his ear to his shoulder, curling into him as much as they could in the confines of their seats. His heart was going strong and hard in his chest in the most pleasant way. He felt so real, so alive, and so very loved. He could feel Alby’s breath on his neck and his skin was wonderfully warm, his weight carefully leaning against Newt very welcome and grounding and comforting. Newt felt the strength in his large hand as it cradled over his hip and splayed over his thigh, held so gently and affectionately. He closed his eyes and swallowed the sudden lump in his throat, his breath hitching for a just a second.

There were words on the tip of his tongue, special words that they’d technically already said to each other in text, but never out loud. And he knew he could whisper those words, yell them with all the force he could muster, press them like jewels into the air between them, have them hum against Alby’s skin like they danced in Newt’s chest with fluttering hummingbird wings. And they would, when he said them, eventually. But right now, he would much rather listen to the steady inhales and exhales of his partner, his boyfriend, his lover, and know that in all this crazy, hurtful, unsure, chaotic world – they had each other, and this little piece of time, all to themselves. And nobody could take that away from them.

He breathed out shakily and Alby skimmed his hand lightly up and down his thigh. “Alright?” He asked in a mumble.

“Just wonderful,” Newt whispered back.

Alby smoothed a slow, thoughtful kiss into Newt’s collarbone and squeezed his hip tightly for just a second. Newt wanted to melt into a puddle and was sure he made some kind of embarrassing noise but Alby didn’t say anything about it, though Newt could feel the sweet curve of his lips as he smiled. Newt closed his eyes and looped his arms around Alby’s back and shoulders, holding him as close as they could get.

“The car is not the best place to cuddle,” Alby muttered eventually. “Sorry to be unromantic, but this is hurting my neck.”

Newt snorted and opened his eyes again, feeling very warm and soft all over. “We’ll have to work on that.” Slowly, regretfully, he let Alby go. Alby was just as reluctant to move, scattering little kisses over Newt’s neck and cheeks before sitting up properly. The smile he offered was the sweetest sunrise.

“What, start cuddling in weird places more often?”

“We could take pictures, submit it to Buzzfeed, get rich,” Newt smiled back. “Think of the bigger picture, Alby.”

“Hm,” Alby looked up at the car ceiling as he pretended to think about it. “Ten Places These Gays Snuggle – You Won’t BELIEVE It!”

“Could be better,” Newt grinned. “Crazy Cute Couple Cuddles Creatively – Click For More!”

“Nice, nice,” Alby grinned and shook his head. “Okay, what music d’you wanna listen to for the drive?”

As Newt started scrolling through his iPod, Alby turned the ignition and eased them out of the driveway and eventually onto the highway. He felt like he was driving on clouds, he felt almost giddy. He glanced over at Newt once he’d picked their music, and didn’t bother to stop the wide, goofy smile he knew was spreading over his face.

“What?” Newt smiled self-consciously as he swept his hair over one shoulder.

“You’re very precious to me.” Alby said simply.

One good thing about dating a very pale-skinned guy from the sun-starved corners of Britain, Alby was discovering, was that not only did he get constellations of freckles in real sunlight, but that when he blushed it was like watching roses bloom under his skin, pale and pink and perfect.

-x-

“I cannot eat another thing,” Thomas declared and pushed his chair away from the table a bit. “That was amazing.”

Teresa laughed and finished off her drink. “Well, it was mostly Rachel’s doing, but thanks for helping out.”

“It would’ve felt weird just sitting and not helping,” Thomas smiled. “And Rachel, you’re an amazing cook. Thank you so much, it was wonderful.”

Rachel beamed and tucked her hair behind her ears. “No worries. Happy Thanksgiving, everybody.”

“Happy Thanksgiving,” they echoed back, Thomas a little late.

“Whatcha wanna do now?” Teresa yawned and started clearing the table. They handed plates down to her and Thomas started organising the leftovers into plastic boxes. “I’ve already vetoed any football.”

“We could watch a movie or something?” Thomas suggested while Aris took their plates into the kitchen.

“I’m good with whatever,” Aris said. “And Rachel, stop trying to clean. You cooked basically everything, go sit down.”

Rachel smiled at him and stuck her tongue out playfully. “Fine. I vote for some Hannibal.”

“What? Why? You just cooked and ate, why would you want to watch a show that gory?” Teresa asked with a laugh.

“I felt very Hannibal-like cleaning and dressing that turkey, let me tell you,” Rachel grinned.

“You have a cuter cooking apron than he does, though,” Aris commented.

Rachel laughed and swatted his arm playfully, both their eyes shining brightly and just a little red-faced. Teresa and Thomas exchanged an amused look and pretended they hadn’t noticed. They were getting good at it, seeing as they’d been practising all semester.

Thomas took charge of the sink while Aris and Teresa dried and put away the dishes; Rachel perched on top of the counter. Aris startled whistling a song they’d all jammed to in their last study session, and Rachel snapped her fingers. Teresa tapped her fingers against the counters and kept up the counter rhythm with flicks of her nails against the plates. And when she nudged him, Thomas started singing. He could feel his face going red but he couldn’t stop smiling at his friends, who grinned back at him as they made music and cleaned house together.

Then he noticed Rachel was holding a phone up with her free hand, the camera light blinking on. Thomas spluttered but continued singing to the dishes, encouraged by Teresa’s grin and Aris’ thumbs-up.

When he finished the last lyric, they whooped and clapped and he threw suds at them all as they laughed.

“Brenda was right, you _do_ have a nice voice,” Teresa smiled when they’d finished drying themselves off.

Thomas shrugged. His face felt like it was on _fire_. She laughed at him again and led them all through to the living room, where they sprawled on the couches. They spent about half an hour bickering about which film they should watch until they settled on something stupid and flashy without much plot.

He and Teresa ended up sitting next to each other and he noticed she was being careful not to crowd him or make him uncomfortable. He smiled and nudged her with his shoulder until she loosened up and they leant contentedly against each other. On her other side, Rachel and Aris were curled up much closer, legs flung over each other’s laps.

He checked his phone as the film got rapidly flashier and less intelligent.

 

> _To: Newto_
> 
> _How’d it go? I am so full of turkey rn_

He had to wait about twenty minutes for the reply, but smiled when it came through.

 

> _From: Newto_
> 
> _V v v v v good. Theyre all so nice??? Thought itd b weird but theyre super chill. Guess we kno whr al gets it from_
> 
> _To: Newto_
> 
> _Yay! Really happy for u :) what r u up to now?_
> 
> _From: Newto_
> 
> _Albys youngr sibs are playin frisbee in the garden, im chilling w his mum, helping make dessert. She likes my hair. Alby’s helping his dad build bookcases?? idk how theyre all so active i cant move, so much food. Hbu? is Rachel ok?_
> 
> _To: Newto_
> 
> _Nice! :)  things are good here, dinner was great. Watching a silly film. Rachel’s doing really well, got a bit upset when we all sat down but she seems happy now. her and aris are being so cute and dumb its adorable. Want me to say hi for u?_
> 
> _From: Newto_
> 
> _Gr8!! Yes pls_

Thomas smiled. “Newt says hi, by the way,” he announced to the room. The others called back greetings.

 

> _To: Newto_
> 
> _They all say hi too :)_
> 
> _From: Newto_
> 
> _W_ _hat cuties_

Thomas grinned and switched to his message log from Minho, whose relentless spam he’d been ignoring up until now. It seemed that it wasn’t just Alby who would be treated to a play-by-play of the football. Thomas flicked through the earlier ones without much comprehension other than the score, then scrolled down. They got increasingly incoherent as Minho got more and more excited, disintegrating into strings of exclamation points, emojis, and repetitions of the presumably winning team’s name. In all caps, naturally.

                _To: Coach M_

_Are u having fun I cant tell_

_From: Coach M_

_THMSMS ITS SO GD OMG CNNT FUKNDFBGF BBELEIVEEE IT OMG R U WATCHUGJ_

_To: Coach M_

_Wow ur so hyped you cant tell when im being sarcastic anymore, tragic. No I’m not watching_

_From: Coach M_

_UR A FOOL U NEED TO LOVE TOYURSEGFFAND WATCHVNHE FUCGKN FOOTBLLL_

_To: Coach M_

_I’m happy ur having a good time :) how are the mums?_

_From: Coach M_

_LOVLY AS ALWAYS :DDD MOMS DRINGHJKKING W ME AND EOMMA’S BAKINHNG CAKE ITS GD_

_To: Coach M_

_Wow are you drunk rn? Is this drunk minho? :D also – eomma?_

_From: Coach M_

_NHH JUS EXCITED N A BIT TIPSY I GESS ITS NBD N YMY CAPSLORKC IS STUCK. EOMMA = MOM#2. MOM#1 IS MOM. DON’T TELLL THEM I NUMBERRDD THEM_

Thomas smiled and tried not to laugh, though his shoulders shook a bit. Then Minho texted him a couple more times with lots of ‘!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!’s and the team name over and over. Thomas put his text alert back on mute so the constant beeping wouldn’t disturb his friends.

He saw that Rachel had sneakily posted her video of them singing on her Twitter and shared it to his Instagram as well, knowing Chuck would get a kick out of it and laugh at him for days.

He sent Chuck a few quick IMs on Skype, saying how he’d spent his first American Thanksgiving and that he was really looking forward to coming home for Christmas. He checked the clock, did a bit of quick time-zone maths and figured Chuck would reply when he woke up. Then he put his phone away and concentrated on the film again.

Everything was good. He was full of amazing food, and having a great time with his friends. And, best of all, semester was ending soon and he’d be visiting home for a few weeks. He could hug his mum and brother again and sit in his old room and go pick up milk and bread from the tiny newsagents on the corner. He could wake up on Christmas Day with Chuck coming into his room to compare stockings and sit down for dinner with his family, then watch a film with them while the electric fire kept the room hot and cosy.

Thomas excused himself with a mutter about the bathroom, and took a few minutes to get rid of the prickly feeling behind his eyes and in his chest. Some old-fashioned natural saline did the trick nicely.

-x-

Minho stepped out of the shower and dried himself off with relief; work at the gym was really heating up in the run between Thanksgiving and Christmas as people desperately tried to set a pattern to get them through the excess of the holiday period. He didn’t mind, really – more work meant more pay, and he liked his regulars – but he was more tired at the ends of his shifts and much sweatier and grosser than normal.

There was a knock on the locker room door. “Yo, you decent, Min? Not that I ain’t seen your glorious bod before, but thought I’d ask.”

Minho grinned and yanked on some underwear, then turned to face the wall. “That’s a nice change, Ben,” he called back. “Come on in.”

“Sweet.” Ben slipped through the door and started stripping off without even a hint of shame, dropping his clothes on the floor. Then he stopped and whistled jokingly at Minho, who was still turned away from him. “Dude. Your back is _tight_ today.”

Minho grinned over his shoulder, embarrassed but pleased. Ben always had a compliment ready whenever Minho was feeling at all self-conscious. “Get your butt in the shower, you nudist.”

“What’s not to love?” Ben asked, standing buck-naked in the middle of the room. Minho looked him over critically with a smile.

“Eh. I guess you’re alright.”

“That wasn’t what you said last time you stayed the night,” Ben protested jokingly, making his way into the shower. He didn’t bother closing the stall door.

Minho snorted. “That was a while ago, Ben. And okay, you surprised me with that – thing. I’m wise to your tricks now, though.”

“That’s a shame,” Ben sighed as he lathered gel over himself. Minho continued getting dressed. “I might have learned new tricks, and now you’ll never know for sure.”

“Right. How’s things with, uh, what’s-her-name?”

“Ended it,” Ben shrugged.

“Aw, man. I’m sorry. I know you really liked her.”

“Yeah, well. She wasn’t cool with keeping it casual or open, so. Wasn’t much point, was there?” Ben was trying to keep his tone light and joking but Minho knew he was probably very upset. While Ben didn’t do serious, committed, monogamous relationships, he grew very fond of his little network of casual partners.

Minho pulled on his jeans and shirt and leaned on the wall of the shower stall. “D’you want me to come over for a bit, Ben? Not to hook up, just hang out?”

“Are you suggestin’ we platonically Netflix And Chill, Minho?” Ben grinned at him from under the water spray.

Minho smiled. “The change of pace would be refreshing for you, I’m sure.”

“I dunno howta feel ‘bout that, bro,” Ben shook his head. “Netflix with you is like, hard-wired into my brain to mean amazing bedroom times. I dunno if I could take the change of association. Get emotional whiplash ‘n shit.”

“You ass,” Minho grinned, though he could feel his ears burning a bit. “Quit flirting and answer the damn question.”

Ben’s smile gradually slipped off like a coat of makeup, and under the mask he looked tired and upset. “Uh. Yeah, actually. Might be nice. Yeah. I’d really like that, Min.”

“Okay,” Minho smiled. “Tonight?”

“So eager all of a sudden,” Ben smiled back. “Sure you’re not after the goods at all?”

Minho rolled his eyes. “I’ll drop my stuff back home and head to yours when I’m done.”

“Cool.”

“Enjoy your shower,” Minho said as he got his bag together.

“Hey Min, d’you mind if I jack it in here thinkin’ of your ass? Just to keep me strong for the platonic adventures of later.” Ben called jokingly.

Minho laughed. “As many times as you need, sugar, but if your hand’s cramped later I’ll know why.”

Ben’s laughter bounced off the walls as Minho left.

Several hours and a few pizzas later, Minho rubbed gently over Ben’s shoulders while his friend sniffled.

“I just,” Ben mumbled. “I really liked her, Min. She was so rad, and cool, and we had loads of fun. But she wanted to be all exclusive and she got super fuckin’ weirded out when I told her ‘bout my casual stuff.”

“That really sucks,” Minho agreed and passed him some tissues. “What was her problem with it?”

“I dunno,” Ben sighed. “She said she didn’t want to know when she was bein’ cheated on, or somethin’.”

“Not cool.”

“Very un-rad.”

“Maybe she would’ve come round to the whole thing,” Minho suggested. “You still got her number, right? You could make things up, see if she wants to expand her horizons a bit. You want me to talk to her, tell her what the deal is?”

“That’s sweet o’ you, Min,” Ben smiled and patted his chest. “But nah. She didn’t seem like the sharin’ type.”

“Okay… is Zart still in town?”

“Yeah.”

“You could call Zart, have some fun and forget about her for a bit?”

“He’s busy with his new landscaping gig though,” Ben muttered. “I think he’d be too busy to come over.”

“You never know with him though, he’s travelled to be with you before, yeah?” Minho said. He’d never met the guy but he knew Ben cared about him a lot. They looked cute in pictures, anyway.

“Yeah,” Ben admitted. “I wouldn’t wanna drag him away though just to cheer me up, like, if it ain’t just for _him_. I’d feel like I was usin’ him or something.”

“Okay.” Minho thought for a couple of minutes, flicking through his mental list of the people he knew Ben was connected with, and discounting them one by one. “You wanna go out? You know I’m a great wingman, I can help you find someone fun for the night.”

Ben grinned up at him. “Minho Park, you are a gentleman and a scholar and I will always love you. Thank you, but I’m not really up for clubbing right now. Too busy and noisy.”

“Thank fuck for that,” Minho grinned. “These old sweatpants are really not up for a night on the town.”

Ben laughed. “True, I don’t think we’d be let in anywhere dressed in PJs, huh?”

Minho ruffled his hair and stretched his arms out, arching his back a bit from the slouch they’d been laying in for a while. Ben sat up as well and gave him an odd look.

“What?”

“Just rememberin’ the last time I saw you do that.”

“Dude,” Minho muttered, coughing in embarrassment as his cheeks heated.

“What?” Ben grinned slyly. “Good times, man. And I may or may not have a thing for dudes who are jacked as _hell_ layin’ on their backs and havin’ a grand old time.”

“Oh my God, shut up,” Minho spluttered. “You really didn’t get enough in that shower, did you?”

“It’s been a while though, hasn’t it?” Ben asked, leaning back a bit to give him more space. He dropped the flirty look and replaced it with his more genuine face. Minho blinked back at him. “And we have fun.”

“So?”

“So my point is, we’ve hooked up a good few times since you and your ex broke up. But not for a while. Should I be hurt for myself or happy for you?”

Minho snorted and rubbed through his hair. “Neither. Just haven’t been in the mood. Not all of us have your sex drive, Ben.”

“True, I’m a high performance machine and a gift to this world,” Ben grinned and buffed his nails on his shirt. “That’s fair enough. You want _me_ to wingman _you_? I know all the pretty people. And if you’re looking for dates and not just one-nighters, I know how to find even more pretty people.”

“I’m alright, thanks,” Minho shook his head with a smile.

Ben raised his eyebrows. “Wanna make out for a bit then?”

Minho laughed and leaned over to plant a firm kiss on Ben’s forehead. “That’s all the sugar you’re gettin’ from me, Banjo.”

Ben smiled. “Can’t blame a guy for tryin’. Alright. Lemme know if any of that changes, for real.”

“Uh huh. Really though, I’m good. It’s nice just to do my own thing for a bit, y’know? Just focus on work and my friends.”

“That’s cool,” Ben smiled. “Wanna watch more cartoons?”

“What do you think I’m gonna say?”

“Yes?”

“Wrong. _Fuck yes._ ”

-x-

 _Blah de blah de blah. I love computing,_ Brenda reminded herself. _I love it. I want to get good grades. I do. I absolutely would not rather stand naked in the rain than have to read more of this wonderful, exciting textbook._

She blinked at it slowly, sure she’d read that paragraph already. Maybe multiple times. But the meaning still escaped her.

_Fuck this noise._

Brenda looked up from her textbook with a yawn and smiled; Teresa, on the other side of the table, was holding a pen between her teeth as she read back over her notes. Wisps of her dark hair were escaping from the messy bun she’d scraped it back into and Brenda very much wanted to run her hands through it and tuck the escapees behind her ears. Infinitely preferable to more reading.

Instead she lightly knocked her foot against Teresa’s shins under the table. Teresa flashed her a grin around the pen and shifted her legs so Brenda’s foot ran up the back of her calf to her knee.

“Hey there,” Brenda grinned.

“Can I help you with something?” Teresa asked, all innocence.

“Hmmm, maybe,” Brenda said.

Teresa clicked her tongue. “That’s gonna cost you.”

“Oh yeah? What’s the price?”

Teresa casually flipped the pen around in her mouth with a push of her tongue. “Hm. Maybe make me some toast. Depends on what you’re asking.”

“Wanna get something to drink with me?” Brenda smiled.

“What kind of drink?” Teresa said and lightly ran her ankle up Brenda’s leg as well. A little shiver worked up Brenda’s spine.

“Teresa, it’s three in the afternoon. I _mean_ , let’s get outta the house for a bit, have a stroll through the cold wind in big coats and silly hats and get a hot coffee or tea or goddamn toffee chai latte or somethin’. Together.”

Teresa took the pen out of her mouth and rubbed her ankle along Brenda’s calf some more. “You’re a barista, how are you so obsessed with coffee and seasonal drinks when you have to make them all day at work?”

“I am enthusiastic about customer service,” Brenda replied in a perfectly flat, emotionless voice. “But really, we’re not allowed to have them on-shift so I just get cravings from all the coffee fumes. How ‘bout it?”

“Sure, I could do with a break,” Teresa said. “But I don’t have any gloves with me, and the wind’s pretty harsh today.”

“I’ve got big pockets,” Brenda said with a shrug. “And there’s a coffee shop not far.”

“Well then, how could I refuse?” Teresa teased and started putting her pens away. Brenda did the same, smiling happily to herself. Teresa was taking longer so Brenda got up to tidy the kitchen a bit, putting away dishes and shoving food back in the cupboards.

Teresa came to stand behind her after a minute and rested her cool, slim hands on Brenda’s hips. Brenda smiled as some of Teresa’s errant hair brushed over her shoulder and the back of her neck. Her perfume smelled like sea breeze and ozone and Brenda hoped she wasn’t being too obvious breathing it in. Teresa leaned down a bit, her chest pressing lightly into Brenda’s shoulder with a delicate, soft squash.

 _Fuck, girls are so great_ , Brenda thought dreamily.

“Is this a date?” Teresa asked, sounding genuinely confused.

“It’s getting coffee,” Brenda replied, turning a little to smile at Teresa. “Unless you want it to be a date thing.”

Teresa waggled her eyebrows for a moment. “Not really, just wanted to make sure.”

“Cool.” Brenda reached back and tucked some hair behind Teresa’s ear, who smiled sunnily down at her and slipped her hands around to rest on Brenda’s stomach with a light pressure.

“I like you a lot, Bren,” Teresa said after a moment. “I like being around you, and being close like this. It’s really nice, knowing there isn’t any pressure to be – I dunno. Datey and romantic and all that.”

“I’m not gonna turn down some free no-strings-attached affection,” Brenda smiled. “And same. It makes a nice change.”

Teresa’s smile stretched wider and her hands rubbed lightly over Brenda’s stomach, making her laugh quietly. “To be honest, I don’t really need any coffee right now. Would you mind if we stayed in instead?”

“I had my heart set on a toffee caramel mocha,” Brenda pouted playfully. “This had better be a good exchange.”

“You mentioned you had ingredients for cookies, a little while ago,” Teresa suggested. “How about a baking break? They’d probably have the same sugar weight as that toffee caramel mocha you want so bad. And I make really good cookies.”

Brenda rolled her eyes up to the ceiling and heaved a long, loud sigh. “I _guess_ ,” She bemoaned.

Teresa laughed and gave her cheek a quick, warm peck and stepped away to start rifling through Brenda’s cupboards. “How’s your project going?”

Brenda made a non-committal noise. “Coding is hard and it’s not really a functioning thing yet,” she replied as they weighed out ingredients together. “I’ve got a fair amount of the stages prepared, but the functionality’s not there yet. It looks more like static boards than a game.”

“It’ll get there,” Teresa assured her with a smile. “You work really hard, I’m sure it’ll all come together soon.”

“You’re sweet,” Brenda bumped her hip lightly and grinned as Teresa bumped her back. “How’ve you enjoyed your first semester? Hard to believe it’s nearly Christmas.”

“It’s been wild,” Teresa smiled. “The work’s really hard, but I knew that when I signed up for the course. It’s really interesting, though. Brains are so _weird_ and I love learning more about how they work – or how we think they work, anyway. I think I’d want to go into research, at least that’s how I’m leaning now. There’s so much we don’t know even now about how these big balls of neurons actually work and connect together.” Teresa sighed happily and paused in creaming the butter and sugar. “It’s so good to finally be able to _learn_ this stuff instead of being told it’s too advanced for a girl my age, or it’s not relevant to the exam, or whatever. Well fuck you, high school, brains are way more interesting than organic chemistry or plant stoma or any of that bullshit, and I can _finally_ get my hands on all the information.”

Brenda beamed at her. “You’re a _nerd_.”

Teresa spluttered. “You’re a computing major!”

“Yeah, but you’re a _nerd_. There’s a difference,” Brenda teased.

Teresa gave her a flat, unimpressed look. “I guess somebody’s not getting any of these cookies then. What a shame.”

“You come to my house, use my food, and make cookies all for yourself?” Brenda pursed her lips and shook her head. “That’s cold. And my shrivelled, cynical heart adores you for it.”

Teresa laughed and started mixing the flour and chocolate chips into the bowl. Brenda hitched herself up to sit on the counter nearby, content to watch Teresa do all the work. They chatted happily about their courses and friends and lecturers while the sweet smell of dough and chocolate filled the room. Once the trays were in the oven, Teresa washed off her hands and slipped in to stand between Brenda’s knees, smiling up at her.

“What’s so special about sitting here?” Teresa asked, draping her arms around Brenda’s waist.

Brenda grinned down at her and ran her hands slowly through Teresa’s thick, beautiful hair. “I like to feel tall.”

“Oh, I see,” Teresa said, smiling beatifically. “Should I never repeat that to anyone else?”

“Never,” Brenda said, stroking her hands down to frame Teresa’s face in both her hands. Teresa’s eyes were so pale and intense, like bluebells in the snow. And they shone brighter than the sun, fixed solely on Brenda. She leaned in with a cheery smile and they brushed lips in a tiny, chaste little kiss. Brenda smiled and closed her eyes as Teresa’s arms tightened around her, curling around her back and hips and holding her close. Brenda lifted her legs a bit to cradle around Teresa’s hips, her mismatched-sock-feet sliding between Teresa’s thighs. Teresa sighed quietly and turned her head to rest her cheek against Brenda’s collarbone, her hands tracing little arcs on Brenda’s back.

“Do you think this is all a bit sudden?” Teresa asked eventually. Brenda smiled at the feeling of Teresa’s eyelashes brushing against her skin with each blink. “I mean, we only really started hanging out just before Halloween.”

Brenda shrugged and tangled her fingers in Teresa’s hair. “I think that sometimes, when you really click with someone, time doesn’t matter all that much. Besides, it’s Christmas soon. And it makes us both happy, so what’s the big deal?”

Teresa laughed softly and skimmed a hand lightly over Brenda’s thigh before returning to her back. “Okay, fair enough. I guess it just takes me by surprise sometimes, how comfortable I feel with you.”

“I try not to be surprised by my feelings so much these days,” Brenda said. “And just roll with ‘em. It’s easier that way. Much less agonising. You’re really smart and fun and pretty, I like looking at you and touching you and hanging out with you. Hugs are nice. Don’t need to be more complicated than that.”

“I’m a fan of uncomplicated,” Teresa smiled.

“And you want to be a neuroscientist someday?”

“Oh, shut up,” Teresa muttered.

Brenda smirked and they held each other gently, taking comfort in simple touch, until the oven timer beeped at them. Brenda hopped off the counter once Teresa untangled herself and helped transfer the hot cookies onto cooling racks.

“They smell amazing,” She commented. Teresa beamed proudly. She waited until they’d cooled a little more, then carefully picked one up and tore it into two gooey, chewy pieces. Brenda bit into her half at the same time Teresa did, and they held each other’s eyes as they sampled.

-x-

Minho frowned down at his phone screen as he towel-dried his hair.

“Someone sending you sub-par nudes?” Ben asked, trying to peer over his shoulder as he dried off from his own shower.

“No, fuck off,” Minho smiled and shoved playfully at him. “Even if they were, I wouldn’t share them with you.”

“So harsh,” Ben huffed. “What’s with the frown though, my dude? Last shift before Christmas break, you should be happy! And also devastated you don’t get to see my face for two weeks.”

Minho rolled his eyes then focussed back on the phone. He had quite a few texts from Thomas that had stacked up while he was working.

 

> _From: Stringbean_
> 
> _So hey when d u get off wrk again tonite?_
> 
> _From: Stringbean_
> 
> _Im at ur place btw_
> 
> _From: Stringbean_
> 
> _Wanted 2 hang out a bit if thats ok_
> 
> _From: Stringbean_
> 
> _Movie maybe?_
> 
> _From: Stringbean_
> 
> _I can make dinner for us if ur tired_
> 
> _From: Stringbean_
> 
> _Or go if u want some alone time that’s cool, gss im assuming things_
> 
> _From: Stringbean_
> 
> _When d o u get back agn_

Minho chewed the inside of his cheek and frowned down at the messages.

                _To: Stringbean_

_Just finished now. u ok? And yh, obvs I wanna hang out 2nite_

The reply came almost suspiciously fast.

                _From: Stringbean_

_I’m fine!! :) just wanna hang out a bit. Everything’s good :)_

Minho raised an eyebrow at his phone as if Thomas could see him.

                _To: Stringbean_

_Im heading back now, abt ten mins. I’ll pick up food on the way, cba to cook. Cravings?_

_From: Stringbean_

_Indian?_

_To: Stringbean_

_Ok, ill get ur usual_

_From: Stringbean_

_Ur great_

Minho’s frown deepened and he shoved the rest of his things in his bag.

“Family stuff?” Ben asked in a serious voice.

“No, something’s up with Thomas. Have a good Christmas, Banjo. See you in the new year.”

Ben hugged him tightly and slapped his back. “You too, Min. I hope your boy’s okay.”

“Thanks, I’ll pass that on. Get home safe, alright?”

Ben waved him off and Minho left in a bit of a hurry, slinging his bag over his shoulder and jogging through the cold streets to the local Indian takeaway. He ordered for them both without thinking about it, sitting in the waiting area and restlessly tapping his hands on his knees and his soles against the floor. He felt a bit nervous, wondering what was going on with Thomas. He was travelling home the next day and his flight was pretty early in the morning. Minho would miss him while he was gone, but he didn’t think two weeks of separation would warrant this sudden need for company, especially when he knew Thomas was looking forward to seeing his family again with the burning intensity of the sun. Unless there was something specifically that couldn’t wait until Thomas got back?

The girl behind the counter shot him a _look_ and Minho forced himself to hold still and smile at her apologetically. A few minutes later she handed over the bag of sealed boxes and he paid, making sure to give a good tip. He speed-walked back to his flat and hurried up the stairs, becoming more and more convinced that something was seriously wrong.

“Thomas?” He called as he locked the door behind him. “Where you at, dude?”

“Here,” came Thomas’ quiet voice from the main room. Minho dropped the takeaway in the kitchen and took a moment to observe; Thomas was laying down on the couch, his laptop sitting closed on the table, and he had a squashed, lifeless look to his face. He waved vaguely at Minho, eyes glassy. Minho perched on the armrest next to him and put his hands in his pockets, not sure if Thomas wanted to be touched.

“What’s going on?” He asked softly, though worry was clawing up his insides. Thomas shouldn’t be like this. He should be energetic and serious, happy and self-contained, singing under his breath when he thought people couldn’t hear. He shouldn’t be… sideways and flat.

“My flight got cancelled,” Thomas replied in a dull voice. “Weather problems. And they won’t be doing any more for another week, and even if I got a flight out, there’s no guarantee I’d get one back in time for the new semester. Fucking snowstorms. Typical, isn’t it? Five years in a row we get no snow whatsoever until February, then _this_ year it’s a snowy miracle. Wonderful white Christmas for everybody.”

Minho’s chest squeezed and he got a wrenching pain in his stomach. “Oh, Thomas. I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Thomas covered his face, but not before Minho saw his mouth spasm and eyes screw shut. His shoulders started shaking and Minho had never felt so useless and angry and sad all at once. He chewed his lip until the skin split with a sting. He couldn’t stand Thomas being so sad and he had no idea what to do. He balled his hands in his pockets and watched helplessly while Thomas pretended he wasn’t crying.

Minho shot to his feet, determined to do _something_. He grabbed a big, soft blanket from the spare bedroom and tucked it around Thomas until he was all wrapped up. Then he sat down and picked up his sad friend burrito, draping Thomas’ legs sideways over his lap, and wrapped his arms tightly around him.

Thomas curled into him limply, sobbing into his palm.

“I’m so sorry,” Minho said again uselessly, and squeezed his arms as tight as he could until Thomas coughed.

“S’not your fault,” Thomas muttered as he turned his head to rest into Minho’s chest, his chin only just uncovered by the blanket.

“You can cry,” Minho said, his own throat tight. “I don’t give a fuck. Let it out.”

“I might start screaming if I do that,” Thomas replied, his breath hitching as he tried to swallow the sobs shaking his whole frame.

“I don’t care,” Minho said, wrapping his arms tight around Thomas’ waist and shoulders. “It’s so fucking shitty you won’t get to go home over Christmas. I’d be punching pillows if it were me.”

That seemed to do it. Thomas took a deep breath, then let out a raw, hoarse yell of pain and frustration. He muffled it into the blanket and Minho’s chest until he had no more breath, then sucked in more air with a shuddering gasp and started crying in earnest. Big, pained sobs that sounded like they were tearing his lungs apart. Minho gritted his teeth against the sympathetic urge to scream as well, and held him tight. His hand clutched at Minho’s shirt and he could rapidly feel a growing damp spot but he didn’t care about that. He didn’t know what to do other than hold him and rub over his back.

“I miss them so much,” Thomas gasped painfully, shaking all over. There was a hysterical edge to his voice that had Minho’s heart twisting in his chest. Minho cradled the back of his head and stroked through his hair.

“I know, Thomas, I know.”

“I was thinking so much – _hic_ – about Christmas at home,” Thomas said. “About w-waking up and having breakfast with Chuck. A-and opening presents with Mum. Cooking dinner together.” He stopped as a fresh wave convulsed his frame.

Minho kept stroking through his hair and the back of his neck in gentle, rhythmic strokes.

“And of _course_ I love being here, and uni, and you, and my friends,” Thomas choked out. “But I miss _home_.”

Minho hummed to show he was still listening.

“I miss the rain, and stupid daytime TV, and fucking food brands I recognise, a-and hearing about the horrible politics and yelling about it with Mum. I miss her cooking, and Chuck being so n-noisy in his room, and the old people next door complaining about it…”

Minho curled around him and rested his cheek on Thomas’ hair, at a loss how to make things right.

“I want to go home and see them again,” Thomas wept. “I want to go _home_.”

Minho held him quietly until Thomas ran out of tears and he was left shaking and exhausted, slumped into Minho. Minho propped his feet up on the table so he could hold Thomas closer in his lap, and threaded his fingers carefully through his hair, rubbing lightly over his scalp. Thomas eventually unclenched his hand and let go of Minho’s shirt, smoothing out the bunched up material with trembling, apologetic fingers.

“Don’t you dare apologise for crying,” Minho murmured after some time, his voice rough. “Or being homesick or upset. Don’t you dare, or I’ll start crying, and that is one ugly sight.”

“Okay,” Thomas whispered shakily.

“Just breathe,” Minho said. They took slow breaths together until the shaking stopped.

“I can hear your heartbeat,” Thomas muttered. Then, “It just sped up.”

Minho snorted and squeezed him gently. He thought Thomas might be smiling. “You could have just said it was a Code Blueberry, y’know. You didn’t have to pretend everything was okay, in your texts.”

Thomas shrugged a little in the tight confines of Minho’s arms and the blanket. “Habit.”

“Not with me, okay?” Minho said. “You don’t have to do that with me.”

Thomas smoothed down the stretched-out piece of shirt again, his fingers lingering in tiny little strokes that Minho knew were doing things to his heartrate that Thomas could definitely hear, the little shit. He rested his hand flat over Minho’s sternum, fingers curving a little over the muscle of his chest.

“Thank you,” Thomas said, so quietly that Minho nearly missed it.

Minho sighed and gently stroked the back of his neck.

“You’re really good at giving hugs.”

“Have you seen my arms? Hugging machines,” Minho smiled, and then squeezed Thomas as tight as he could until Thomas gasped against his neck.

“Jesus,” Thomas croaked breathlessly when Minho relaxed his hold. “Point proved, goddamn.”

Minho smiled into his hair and they settled into a still quiet while they thought. Minho was trying to come up with something; he knew Newt was already gone, he’d had his flight the previous day as he was getting connections to Cardiff as well. He must have just beaten the weather front, though Minho made a mental note to check he was doing okay when he landed. Alby would know for sure.

Thomas sighed quietly against his chest, distracting him for a moment. Thomas turned his head just a bit and Minho realised he really _was_ listening to Minho’s heartbeat. Minho swallowed down the sudden flush of warmth in his stomach and got his brain back on track. Eventually, he had a plan.

“Hey,” he murmured and stroked gently along Thomas’ hairline. “You can have Christmas here with me.”

“Aren’t you going home though?” Thomas asked, clearly surprised.

Minho shrugged. “We don’t really celebrate it in my family. Seollal’s more important to 엄마, so we do that instead. I was gonna visit on Christmas Day, but it’s not really a big deal. I’ll give them a call instead.”

Thomas was quiet for a moment. “What’s Seollal?” He asked hesitantly. “I’m sorry, I feel like I should know that…”

“Oh.” Minho smiled and ruffled his hair. “Don’t worry about it. Seollal’s the new lunar year, it’s a national holiday in Korea, early February this year. It’s about family meeting up for a couple of days to spend time, seeing as families get scattered through the year. Ah, shit, I need to get some new hanbok, my old ones don’t fit anymore. Remind me in January, I might need to order online.”

“Okay.”

“It’s kind of a time to be traditional and appreciate your family. We all get together with Mom’s family and have meals, play games, give little gifts and talk. It’s a good time. I think we’re going kite-flying with my cousins this year as well, that’s gonna be fun. I’ll be in charge of the kids while the parents and grandparents relax a bit.” Minho smiled happily.

“Do you wear hanbok the whole time?” Thomas asked curiously.

“Depends on the family, I guess. Especially out here in LA. We do –  Mom’s parents, and my uncle and aunt and cousins on that side only do for the first day. 엄마 likes to be traditional, and she misses her family in Seoul. So, me and Mom like to make it as homey for her as possible. And it’s nice, y’know? Dressing up smart and kinda, connecting with my heritage a bit more, I guess.”

“That’s really sweet,” Thomas said, smoothing his hand over Minho’s chest lightly. “Would you guys travel back to Seoul for the holiday? If, uh, your Omma misses home so much.”

“엄마,” Minho corrected his pronunciation with a smile, then sighed. “No. When she told her family about meeting my Mom, years and years ago, they weren’t very happy about it. 엄마 asked last year about visiting them to introduce me to family that side, but they were pretty clear about how they felt. We don’t talk to them much now.” 

“I’m sorry,” Thomas murmured.

“It’s okay. I’ve never really known them, so it’s not a big deal.” Minho brushed it off, though it did hurt sometimes knowing that whole side of his family wanted nothing to do with him or his moms. And knowing how they would react if they knew their lesbian daughter had raised a queer son as well, to boot. He cleared his throat. “Anyway. So spend Christmas here with me, I’m sure my moms won’t mind if we just wait for Seollal. I just saw them at Thanksgiving, anyway.”

“Are you sure?” Thomas asked in a small voice.

“Mmhmm,” Minho smiled. “We can get streamers, and a little tree, and put on cheesy music, and cook something… it’ll be fun. Why not?”

“I don’t deserve to have you in my life.”

“Shut up,” Minho smiled, and kissed his forehead without a second thought. “There’s no way I’m letting you spend Christmas alone in your dorm at uni, that’s just sad. I’m sure you can Skype with your mom and Chuck on the day as well, time-zones willing. It’ll be alright.”

“…Did you just kiss me?”

“Uh. Maybe? Sorry, is that not okay? I just… do that sometimes. I didn’t really think about it, uh…” He knew Thomas could definitely feel his heart racing with anxiety.

“No, it’s okay. It was nice. A bit unexpected, but nice. Chill.” Thomas replied and patted his chest.

“I’m an affectionate person, what can I say,” Minho muttered. His face felt hot.

“Really, it’s okay,” Thomas said with a small laugh. “It was nice, thank you. This is nice.” He nudged his head lightly against Minho’s chest. “Cosy.”

“Cool.”

“I think I might be overheating in the blanket, though.”

“Oh, sorry.” Minho helped him tug it down to around his legs to cool down. Minho expected him to get up, but Thomas just curled back into him like it was the most natural thing in the world. After a moment, Minho settled his arms back around him, though a bit looser so he could breathe. One arm rested half on the back of the sofa and half on Thomas’ shoulder, and his other arm laid along Thomas’ thigh, hand on his lower back. Thomas’ hands found themselves on Minho’s chest and upper arm, his thumb stroking a little over the swell of his bicep. Thomas didn’t say anything, so Minho didn’t either. He smiled and tilted his head back to rest against the couch and closed his eyes; if he concentrated, he could feel Thomas’ heartbeat too, beating along in company to his own.

The cosy warmth of Thomas’ body pressed up against his own, and the slow rhythm of their breathing, lulled him until he drifted, feeling both heavy and weightless as the effort of his gym shift made itself known. He yawned and let his feet drop back to the floor. He vaguely felt Thomas move closer, and was going to say something, but the words fluttered away and he was adrift in calm, tranquil waters.

They ate the takeaway reheated close to midnight, when they both woke up with pins and needles in the majority of their limbs.

-x-

Minho woke on Christmas Day to the smell of bacon and Thomas’ soft voice emanating from the kitchen as he sang ‘Little Drummer Boy’. Minho rolled over in bed with a sleepy smile, happy listening to him. He kind of loved how Thomas sang when he was doing things in the kitchen, though if he realised anybody was listening he’d usually clam up and refuse to acknowledge it had happened. It was a shame, because he had a very nice voice.

“ _I have no gift to bring, pa-rum-pum-pum-pum,”_ Thomas’ clear voice shimmered out like a bell, shifting smoothly into a higher register. Minho raised his eyebrows and smiled into his pillow, huffing a happy sigh. He heard the bacon sizzling, presumably as Thomas turned them over. “ _That’s fit to give our king, pa-rum-pum-pum-pum, rum-pum-pum-pum, rum-pum-pum-pum-pum…”_

The kettle started rumbling and Minho rubbed absently at his chest and the gentle, warm feeling blooming there.  When the kettle got loud enough to cover Thomas’ voice, Minho made a face into his pillow and rolled out of bed to gather his clothes together. He got dressed as quietly as possible, so Thomas wouldn’t know he was awake and stop singing.

” _Just hear those sleigh bells jingalin’, ring-ting-tingalin’, too,”_ Carried out and through the door as Minho was buttoning his shirt; nothing fancy, but not pyjamas either. “ _Come on it’s lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you._ ”

Minho sat back on his bed once he was done to listen to the rest, smiling softly at the door.

“ _…all comfy and cosy are we. We’re snuggled up together like two birds of a feather would be…”_

Minho brushed his hair but didn’t bother gelling it for once, letting it flop over his forehead for a change. He sighed as Thomas finished the song with a sweet little note. Minho had the brief, irrational feeling he should start singing something back, but he wasn’t confident enough in his voice to even try.

Instead he got up and opened the door as quietly as he could, sneaking through his own apartment until he could lean on the wall by the kitchen, watching Thomas make them both breakfast. Thomas was humming as he made them both a drink, dressed nicely like Minho. The forest-green button-down he was wearing complimented his skin and narrow frame very well. In fact, it was nearly identical to the one Minho was wearing, though his was open for the first few buttons with a white undershirt. It was tough being ‘really fucking ripped’ as Ben said sometimes.

“Well, one of us is gonna have to change,” Minho commented.

Thomas jumped, nearly dropping the milk. “Why can’t you just say hi like a normal human being?” He grumbled when he set the milk back on the side carefully. Then he looked properly at Minho and grinned when he saw his outfit. “Wow.”

“We’ve obviously been spending too much time together,” Minho smiled. “Though that bacon smells great.”

“I thought I’d get a head start on things,” Thomas shrugged.

“You didn’t have to make breakfast all on your own,” Minho said. “I wanted it make it with you.”

“Really?”

Minho nodded.

“Aw. Well, I like cooking, and I thought it’d be nice to treat you, seeing as you changed your plans for me today.” Thomas said to the frying pan.

That soft, gooey feeling was happening again, rippling through Minho’s chest and stomach. Not sure what to do about it, he ran his hand lightly down Thomas’ side and squeezed his hip.

“It’s no trouble. But thank you for the breakfast.”

Thomas grinned at him, a little pink in the face. “Sit your ass down at the table then, this is nearly ready.”

Minho chuckled and stepped away obediently. As he waited, he looked around his apartment happily; they’d decorated it a few days ago, and everything sparkled. Tinsel draped along the windowsills and the tops of furniture, there were icicle decals on the windows, and there was a little artificial tree squashed in the corner by the TV with fairy lights slowly changing colours, glimmering off the baubles hanging there. Ornaments were scattered over his shelves and Thomas had even insisted on getting two red stockings and hanging them on the AC unit ‘because it’s the closest thing to a fire’. More baubles hung from string attached to the ceiling, spinning gently like mobiles. Gold-coloured streamers wrapped around the edges and legs of the table and chairs, and Thomas had even set up some candles in the middle of the already-set table. When they’d gone shopping the day after Thomas’ flight was cancelled, Minho had thought it was all a bit overboard but he was happy to let Thomas go for it, reasoning it would help with his homesickness; and he’d never really done a full-blown Christmas before, so what did he know about appropriate decorations.

Looking around at it now, while Thomas hummed and served up their breakfast, Minho couldn’t stop smiling. It all felt so… homey and snug and bright. His neat apartment felt cluttered and lived-in in the best possible way, and oddly enough the thought that each of these decorations had been put up by them both, together, made his breath come short for a second.

Thomas turned around and brought their plates and mugs to the table with a wide smile. They ate in contented silence, both still waking up a bit without the normal routine of going for a run. Thomas had cooked them what he referred to as a ‘full English’ – this was apparently very different from the ‘full Monty’, Minho had been laughingly informed in the supermarket – and Minho tucked in happily, though he ended up giving his black pudding to Thomas to finish. He just didn’t like the texture. When he was done, Minho felt just a bit greasy but decided it was alright for a treat, and it was certainly as full of protein as his usual workout meals. He discreetly swished orange juice around his gums to cut through the oily feeling when Thomas was turned away.

“That was great, thank you,” Minho smiled at him. “So, what now?”

“Presents, if you like. Or we could wait until after the main meal. Up to you.”

“Hm. Now’s fine, I guess? What would you do at home?”

Thomas smiled and picked at his sleeve cuff. “Well normally Chuck wakes me up and we go through our stockings together for a few hours so Mum can sleep in. I didn’t think you’d appreciate me jumping on your bed at five, though, so I skipped that part.”

Minho grinned. “True, I value my beauty sleep.”

Thomas stuck his tongue out before continuing. “Then I’d help Mum make breakfast, and me and Chuck would shake the stuff under the tree – gently, obviously. It’s just fun trying to guess things, and handle them. Chuck has a thing for shiny paper, and it’s just… nice. I dunno. A little bit of mystery. If we were meeting up with family for the main meal we’d probably do presents in the morning, or wait to do it as a big group. We sit on the floor and pass presents to each other, you’re not allowed to take one for yourself, it has to be for someone else.”

“Aw.”

“Yeah,” Thomas smiled down at his hands. “So then we open stuff. And we just kinda… sit and talk about what we’ve got, and spend time in general. We have a little rule that you’re not allowed to play with or read your new stuff until after the meal, I dunno if other people do that, but it’s nice just to kind of. Look at it, and talk without being super obsessed with the actual things and like, consuming them immediately. Keeps the mystery and specialness around a bit more. It’s nice.”

“It sounds really sweet,” Minho smiled, propping his chin in his hand.

Thomas sighed with a fond little smile, his eyes lowered but shining bright. The changing-colour lights from the tree shimmered off all the reflective tinsel and ornaments and sparkled over his hair and face as he talked. “Mmhmm. Usually by about that time the dinner needs starting, so we all start preparing it together. Mum does the meat, Chuck sorts the veg and I do the potatoes and stuff like that. We usually just do a big roast, were boring like that. There’s usually music playing while we’re cooking.”

“Do you all sing together?” Minho asked.

Thomas grinned and flushed a bit. “Sometimes. Why?”

Minho smiled. “You were singing while you were making breakfast. It was lovely.”

Thomas scoffed and flicked a bit of leftover bacon at Minho, who laughed. “It really was! You have a beautiful voice.”

Thomas was pretty red in the face now. “Rude. Anyway, then we have dinner together. With crackers, and party hats, and terrible jokes and all that.”

Minho frowned in confusion. “Like, cheese crackers?”

Thomas snorted. “No, no, you’ll see later. I got some the other day. After dinner, then we start playing with the presents, or reading them, or watching or whatever. Enjoying them, I guess. Mum usually gets the evening shift in the ER, so she goes for a nap most of the time and me and Chuck amuse ourselves for a bit. Chuck usually gets a new video game or two, so when Mum heads out to work we go up to his room and play, and have leftover bits, and sweets from our stockings. Sometimes the grandparents come over and stuff like that, but – that’s usually how it goes most years. My family Christmas.” He started blinking rapidly.

Minho stood and draped an arm around his shoulders, rubbing his arm gently. “You’re Skyping with them soon, right?”

“Yeah, at nine. It’ll be four PM there, they’ll have already had their Christmas day.” Thomas replied and wiped his eyes.

“I’m sorry time-zones suck so bad,” Minho replied quietly. “We’re gonna have a fun day too, though. Why don’t you go shake stuff? I’ll do the washing up. And then we’ll open our presents for each other, yeah?”

Thomas sniffed and hefted a smile on his face. “Yeah, that’s a good plan.” He reached up and lightly squeezed the hand on his shoulder. “Thanks, Minho.”

Minho squeezed back for a minute, then went to organise the unfortunate number of greasy pans and pots that had made their breakfast. When that was all done and Minho had thoroughly washed his hands, he joined Thomas on the floor by the tree to gently paw at the wrapped packages pushed under there and admiring the baubles.

“These are very mysterious,” Minho smiled at Thomas, who grinned back and lifted one of his to watch the fairy lights scatter on the metallic paper. “Wanna open some?”

“Yep, open this one first, I wanna see your reaction,” Thomas said, offering a large, squashy package to Minho. “Merry Christmas, Minho.”

Minho took a few minutes to poke and shake it. His best guess was a bag maybe? Or a hoodie, he had a lot of hoodies. He peeled off the tape carefully – much to Thomas’ loud disgust – and pulled out what appeared to be a bundle of shirts. He unfolded them and laid them out on the floor in front of himself and had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating.

They were a load of tank tops with terrible slogans on the front.

SUNS OUT GUNS OUT. COOL STORY BRO in the Toy Story font. PRACTICE SAFE SETS in the shape of a condom. THE EMPIRE LIFTS BACK with a picture of Darth Vader as a bodybuilder. ALL BUFF NO FLUFF. HAKUNA MA _SQUAT_ A – IT MEANS NICE BOOTY. And finally, one that was actually kind of cute with AVO-CARDIO and a cartoon of an avocado with legwarmers.

Minho stared at them, then looked slowly up at Thomas who was grinning like his face was going to split in half.

“Oh my God,” Minho said eventually. “I always knew this day would come.” He tried so hard to keep a straight face but he couldn’t help it, he started laughing. Thomas cracked up as soon as he did and every time they caught each other’s eyes, they only laughed harder until they were in hysterics. Thomas was gasping and hiccoughing and Minho was flat on his back, hands on his stomach, as he wheezed with tears running down his face.

“Oh my God,” he panted, trying to calm down. “You’re the _worst_ , Thomas. They’re _so_ bad.”

“I know,” Thomas replied gleefully. “I thought they suited you.”

Minho snorted and half-heartedly tried to kick him, but ended up just flailing on the floor as a fresh wave descended on him. “I think I’d get fired on the spot if I wore them to work,” Minho wheezed. He tried to take deep breaths and calm down, but the sound of Thomas’ hysterical giggles kept setting him off again.

“Do you like them, though?” Thomas asked in-between giggle fits.

Minho nodded, tears still welling up in his eyes. “I love them, you trashcan. Open yours. Oh, Merry Christmas.” He managed to swallow his laughter enough to sit up and pass Thomas a similarly bulky, squashy present.

Thomas shot him a curious look and tore the paper like a savage, throwing it gleefully in tatters to the floor. He pulled out a set of terrible Christmas jumpers and surveyed them just as Minho had done.

There was a BAH HUMPUG one with a cartoon of a grumpy pug wearing a Santa hat. Of course there was the obligatory and much-beloved MERRY XMAS YA FILTHY ANIMAL. One with PISTE OFF above a set of skis. A CHILLIN WITH MA SNOWMIES one with a group of snowmen wearing shutter shades and holding solo cups. And one that said DON’T JINGLE MY BELLS in the colours of the ace flag.

Thomas controlled himself long enough to say, “We spend way too much time together,” before they collapsed into hysterics again.

It was quite some time until they recovered enough to unwrap the rest of their presents. They both got a DVD boxset from Alby, and Minho informed Thomas this was somewhat of a tradition with the guy. From Newt, Thomas got a full-on _metal tin_ of some brand of British biscuits Minho had never heard of but Thomas reacted like it was more precious than a small child. Minho got some books on scientific advances of recent years and a comic or two from him, which Minho appreciated. Ben had got him a new pair of running shoes and Minho admired them while Thomas opened things from his uni friends, mostly sweets and books, and a pretty cute plushie of a cartoon brain from Teresa.

“Oh, this one’s for you too,” Thomas smiled and passed another one to Minho.

“It’s from Brenda,” Minho said in surprise, reading the tag. “That’s nice of her.” He unwrapped it and snorted; it was a tiny bottle of vodka, the sort you might find in a hotel mini-fridge or on an airplane, with a note telling him to practice before doing shots with her again. Thomas got a set of coffee liqueurs from her as well.

When they were done, Thomas realised it was nearly nine and rushed to get his laptop set up while Minho tidied up the wrapping paper scattered everywhere. Minho made them both some tea while Thomas waited for the call to go through.

“Hi sweetie!” Thomas’ mum said as soon as it was connected, waving at him from the screen. “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas!” Thomas replied, waving back. “Where’s Chuck?”

“Oh, he’s just doing the washing up. I’ll go call him, hang on.”

Thomas waited impatiently until Chuck exploded onto the screen, yelling his name so loud it almost shorted out the call. Minho winced but smiled as he handed Thomas his tea, then made himself scarce to give Thomas some privacy. Even in his room he could hear most of their conversation as both Thomas and Chuck were talking so loud and excitedly while they opened presents from each other; as soon as Thomas had learned his flights were cancelled, he and his family had shipped their presents out instead, arriving only the day before.

Minho smiled and checked his messages, replying to Alby and Ben and Newt. Then he gave his moms a ring and happily sipped his tea while they chatted a good hour away. Minho told them all about his morning so far, and how they were going to spend the rest of the day, and laughed as they caught up on news.

“Okay, I’ll let you go now,” Minho smiled. “사랑 해요, 엄마, 안녕히 가세요.” He paused a moment to listen to their goodbyes, then hung up. He deduced from the talk still happening that Thomas was still on Skype, and changed his shirt to one of a different colour to seem less weird. He went back to the living room and smiled at the sight of Thomas sitting on the floor with his laptop on the coffee table, and presents and sweets scattered around him. He looked a bit puffy-eyed but so happy to be talking to his family. Minho sighed quietly and watched him for a moment before Thomas noticed his reappearance. He beamed up at Minho.

“Hey, where’d you go?”

“Talking with my moms,” Minho replied and came into the room properly. “They say hey and hope you’re doing alright, by the way.”

“Aw,” Thomas said, looking genuinely touched. “Thank them for me later, yeah? Come say hi to _my_ mum.”

Minho smiled and sat down next to Thomas, then waved at the screen. “Merry Christmas, uh, Ms Murphy.”

“Oh please, Caroline’s fine,” she laughed. “Merry Christmas to you too, Minho dear. Thank you so much for having Thomas to stay.”

“It’s no trouble,” Minho grinned. “We’re having a good time. My family don’t really do Christmas so it’s been a new one for me. Thomas cooked a full English for us, that was fun.”

“Oh, I see,” Thomas’ mum smiled. “I’m glad you’re having fun! Thomas, shall I get Chuck again? I think he’s calmed down now.”

“Please,” Thomas smiled. When she’d left, Thomas said quietly, “We both got a bit upset about me not being there, so Chuck went to chill for a little while.”

“Ah,” Minho nodded. “You doing okay?”

Thomas looked down at his lap. “Mmhmm. It hit me a bit hard, knowing they’d already done all their Christmas things and I missed it. But it’s good just chatting, and talking about it anyway. Mum took the tablet into the living room to show me the tree, that was nice.”

Minho rested his hand on Thomas’ lower back for a moment. Thomas took a deep breath and smiled a bit more. “How’re the moms?”

Minho snorted. “They’re good, having a quiet day in. Watching movies and not doing much else.”

“Sounds nice. Did they really ask about me?”

“Yeah, dude,” Minho smiled. “I get the feeling Mom’s gonna send me something for you, she got all upset when I told her about the flights and stuff.”

Thomas gaped at him until Chuck came running back into the room. Minho lightly booped Thomas’ nose and grinned at Chuck.

“Hey! Merry Christmas, Chuck!”

“Oh wow,” Chuck said, eyes wide. “Merry Christmas, Minho!”

Minho chuckled and started getting up. “I’ll leave you to it, gonna start cooking.”

“Yep, shove off,” Thomas grinned and pushed at his hip.

Minho ruffled his hair so it was completely messed up, then dodged out of the way before Thomas could retaliate, earning a grumpy scowl. Minho stuck his tongue out and grinned to himself as he started cooking their dinner, half-listening to the conversation about Chuck’s friends and school drama. He busied himself with the food – although it wasn’t all that complicated, it would take some time as he was doing a fair number of sides. He smiled to himself, remembering learning how to cook it all with his moms when he was younger. He didn’t often cook like this, preferring fast and easy American food most of the time, but Thomas had suggested that if he was going to do an English breakfast and take over the day, Minho might as well make the day a fusion of both their homes. He grinned to himself when he got out the serving bowls from the back of his cupboard; they’d been a rather pointed birthday present a few years back, given with heavy hints that Minho should cook for his partners to romance them properly.

 _I hope this makes you proud,_ _엄마_ _, even if Thomas isn’t my partner_ , he thought.

He opened a window to let some of the steam out, surveying the various bubbling pots and pans crammed on his little stove while the bowls heated up in the oven. Technically he was cheating a bit, not cooking the stew directly in the bowls, but he didn’t have any burners to keep the bowls hot out of the oven.

“That smells amazing, by the way,” Thomas called from the living room.

“Thanks,” Minho called back. “It’ll be ready soon. Are Chuck and your mum eating with us? You can put the laptop on the table, I don’t mind.”

Thomas didn’t reply, and after a minute Minho turned around to see what was wrong. Thomas was giving him an odd look, half baffled and half impressed.

“What?”

“Minho, the majority of that was in Korean,” Thomas smiled fondly.

“Oh,” Minho laughed, a little embarrassed. “Habit, I usually only cook like this at home. I said it’ll be ready soon, and you can put the laptop on the table if you wanna keep talking while we eat.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I don’t mind,” Minho smiled at him from the stove. “Oh, how do you feel about a raw egg? It’ll cook in the bowl while you eat, but it’s served raw. Yes, or no?”

“Sure, why not,” Thomas smiled. “I’ll move to the table.”

“Nice.”

Minho carefully juggled all the bowls and pans and side plates, taking as much care with the presentation as his mothers would have done, and transferred it all gingerly to the table. He carried the stew bowls in thick oven mitts.

“Do _not_ touch the bowls, they’re hot enough to keep cooking stuff,” he warned Thomas just before he set them down.

“It all looks beautiful, Minho,” Thomas smiled, then turned to adjust the laptop screen so Chuck could see as well; his mother had apparently headed off for her shift.

Minho flushed, his ears burning. “Thank you.” He sat down and cleared his throat, then began pointing to each dish. “Okay, here’s what we’ve got. Mains is the stew, it’s called 순두부찌개 and it has tofu, pork and shrimp as well as a whole load of vegetables, and the egg as well. The side dishes are called 반찬, and these particular ones are called 찜닭 – chicken, vegetables and noodles in this sauce -, 오이전 – fried and stuffed cucumber – and 고추전, a kind of a pancake made with chilli. There’s also 밥 – rice to you – and some of my Mom’s homemade 김장 김치, I’ve got a huge store of it in the cupboard. That’s like, fermented radish and cabbage and stuff like that.”

Thomas was quiet for a few moments, taking it all in. Then he asked Minho to repeat the names, and he echoed them back slowly, trying over and over until he got the pronunciation right. “Thank you, Minho,” He said when they were both satisfied with his level of comprehension. “I can guarantee I’ve never had a Christmas dinner like this, but it looks amazing. Thank you so much.”

Minho smiled bashfully down at his bowl and picked up his spoon. “Dig in then, before it goes cold.”

Thomas raised his glass to Minho for a second before he started eating. Minho was extremely pleased with himself; although his moms would have done some things differently, he was content with how it had all turned out, and very flattered that Thomas kept asking the names and obviously trying to commit them to memory, asking about the cooking process, what the bowls were made of, what Minho’s favourite dishes to cook were, and eating it all enthusiastically. Chuck asked questions as well, apparently forgetting his awe of Minho as his favourite YouTuber in favour of his excitement over Minho’s cooking skills.

When they’d eaten as much as they possibly could – pretty much clearing all the plates – Thomas reached under the table and pulled out a box of cardboard tubes. He offered the end of one to Minho with a grin, who took it.

“Uh…?”

“Christmas crackers,” Thomas said. “You pull on them, they give a pop, and there’s stuff inside for whoever gets the bigger bit.”

“Ohhh.”

“Americans don’t have crackers, Chuck, I had to order these online,” Thomas said to the laptop.

Chuck looked scandalised. “But what do you do before the dinner starts? Half the fun is wearing the hats!”

“I dunno, I’ll demand explanations from Alby when he gets back,” Minho grinned and gripped the end tightly as Thomas made to pull on it. They yanked at the same time and Minho jumped at the loud firecracker bang. Thomas and Chuck laughed at his expression and he had to laugh along with them once he’d gotten over the shock.

“You won,” Thomas said, waving his smaller end, the snapped centre filament smoking a little. “What did you get?”

Minho dug inside his cylindrical section and pulled out a flimsy red paper crown, a little plastic bag containing some dice, and a tiny slip of paper.

“Put the crown on!” Chuck enthused, and Minho did so with a lopsided grin.

“How stupid do I look?”

“Seasonally-appropriately stupid,” Thomas nodded with satisfaction. “What joke did you get?”

Minho scanned it quickly and raised his eyebrows incredulously. In a defeated voice, he read, “What is Santa’s favourite pizza base?”

Both Thomas and Chuck puzzled over it, throwing out suggestions for a few minutes. “I dunno, what _is_ Santa’s favourite pizza base?”

Minho forced himself to reply, “One that’s deep-pan crisp and even.”

Thomas and Chuck laughed loudly while Minho looked at the paper in disgust.

“Okay, okay, let’s pull another one, I want a stupid crown and terrible joke,” Thomas grinned. They pulled another, and Minho gave Thomas the winning end with a smirk. Thomas’ crown was dark purple and he got a little fridge magnet in the shape of a reindeer. He unfolded the joke with relish, eyes shining. “What’s white and goes up?”

Minho’s eyebrows shot up in shock, his immediate answer one he definitely could not say in front of Chuck. “I really don’t know,” he managed instead.

“A confused snowflake, of course,” Thomas sniggered. “Why were you looking at me like that?”

“Are you kidding me?” Minho grinned. “Chuck, cover your ears a sec.” He obscured his mouth with his hand as well, just in case and spoke in a whisper. “Dude, cum.”

Thomas’ eyes went wide with horror and Minho laughed weakly.

“Shockingly, that particular answer didn’t occur to me,” Thomas said, very dry. “I’ll have you know these are family-friendly crackers, you filthy douche. Apologise to my kid brother right now.”

“I didn’t hear anything, it’s okay!” Chuck said, though from the thrilled look on his face he’d worked out what Minho said anyway. The kid was fifteen, after all.

Minho laughed and raised his hands. “Sorry, Chuck, I’m really sorry. And sorry to Thomas too. Forgive me?” He pouted playfully and Thomas rolled his eyes.

“As punishment, you have to wear the crown for the rest of the day. The whole day.”

Minho gasped as if horrified and Thomas smiled fondly at him. On the other end of the call, Chuck yawned into the back of his hand. Thomas immediately clicked to a tab already-open with a time-zone converter and grimaced; it was getting on for nine PM in London. They’d spent quite a few hours on Skype.

“I’m not tired,” Chuck said quickly. “Just a long exciting day. I can chat for ages.”

Thomas smiled. “Grandad should be turning up soon, yeah?”

“Yeah, about ten minutes. We’re gonna watch the Doctor Who special together, he made me promise to wait for him.”

“Have you had something else to eat since dinner?”

Chuck made a face. “Yes, _Mum_. I had some of the cold potatoes and beef, and some pudding. I’m good.”

Thomas made a face back at him and they traded terrible expressions for a while until neither could keep it together and just laughed for a while. Minho watched quietly from the side, enjoying how Thomas’ face lit up whenever he talked to Chuck, obviously so damn _happy_ and fond of his brother. Minho fidgeted with the cracker dice and considered the irony that although IVF tended to produce twins or triplets, he was an only child. He was close with his cousins, but it wasn’t really the same. He could still be happy for Thomas though, and Chuck was a great kid.

After a couple of minutes, Chuck turned around at a noise on his end. “Ah, Grandad’s here.”

“Okay, I’ll let you go then,” Thomas said with a credible attempt at cheeriness. “Enjoy the special, have a good night.”

“Okay,” Chuck said, shoulders drooping. “You too. Bye, Thomas. Bye, Minho.”

“Bye, Chuck,” Thomas said with a wave and a too-bright smile. Minho waved as well until Thomas ended the call, and the call screen went blank. The abrupt silence was all kinds of heart-breaking.

Minho reached across and lightly closed the laptop before the quiet could stretch too much. “Disney movie?”

Thomas smiled tiredly. “Sure thing.”

They settled down on the couch as the DVD started up, and Minho put his arm around Thomas without needing to ask. Thomas sighed and leaned into him, resting his hand casually on Minho’s knee.

“How do I say ‘thank you’?” He asked quietly.

“감사합니다,” Minho replied softly.

Thomas repeated it quietly a few times, and Minho nodded once he’d got it right.

“Okay. Minho, 감사합니다.” Thomas said carefully. “감사합니다.”

There was something very lovely about hearing Thomas treat the vowels and consonants with so much care, and the way he curved into Minho’s chest like they’d been made to fit together.

“천만에요, Thomas,” Minho murmured. “You’re welcome.”

The rest of Christmas Day was spent quietly, marathoning old movies whose plots were less important than the comfort each found in the warm circle of each other’s arms.

-x-

A couple of days into the new year, Minho was idly flicking through his camera roll and smiling to himself, looking back on the pictures taken at the New Years party in the park. There was Newt in a ridiculous floppy hat, there was Brenda waving a sparkler around and making a luminescent swirl in the air around her, there were Rachel and Aris holding hands in oversized gloves. Ooh, there was Alby, handing out cups of hot chocolate poured from his thermos as they waited for the fireworks to start. Here was Thomas, smiling peacefully up at the night sky. There was a selfie of himself with Alby, and another with Thomas. There were a couple of pictures of the crowds at the park, and the hot, fresh donuts they’d all gotten to keep them going. There was one of himself with two girls called Harriet and Sonya, who he’d only met that night but were apparently more of Thomas and Newt’s college friends. Aw, there was Teresa slow-dancing with Brenda. There was one of the whole group of them, squashed somehow into frame with the night sky behind as they pulled stupid faces.

Then a video of the countdown to midnight and the first fireworks that he watched with a fond smile. He remembered everybody yelling along with the announcer, counting down the last seconds of the year. He remembered especially how, when the chant had reached zero, and the new year began and all around them couples started kissing, Thomas had rested his head on Minho’s shoulder and pointed up at the first fireworks.

“ _Look_ ,” Thomas’ voice said in the video, somehow captured through all the background noise. “ _A brand new start.”_

He heard himself laugh quietly, and the camera panned down to Thomas’ cold-pink face, smiling so happily and serenely as the fireworks reflected in his eyes. The video stopped there, but Minho’s heart was pounding just as hard as it had in the moment.

 

* * *

  

[my tumblr](spanglebangle.tumblr.com)

Side note - if there are any issues with the Hangul text in this chapter, or the translation, or anything about Seollal, please let me know! I am not at all fluent or Korean and the pieces in this fic are put together through beginner learning resources, translation services and research on my part. (Also I'm sorry the formatting on the texting bits are inconsistent, I'll try and fix that later today, so it should just be a temporary thing.)

Leave any questions in the comments! ^u^ Hope you enjoyed the chapter everybody. 

 


	13. A Lil Tenderness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, an update less than seven months after the last one. Shocking, I know :) This is hopefully the start of a more regular update schedule, fingers crossed.   
> And here is a little video I made responding to comments from the previous chapter! :D https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Vkwz6mL6RI There's also a lot of rambling and going off on tangents. Oops. Hope you enjoy! If you'd like more videos like this, just let me know :)

_Okay, so,_ that one _means_ ‘oh’ _, and_ that one _means ‘ch’, so… all together…_ Thomas frowned and moved his mouth without realising, silently shaping the syllables and trying to commit them to memory. This shit was hard. It wasn’t at all like learning new Latin-based terms for his course, figuring out the root and how it was pronounced and how all the little sections of each word variant slotted together like Legos. This was… a completely new alphabet, way of reading each word, phonetic rulebook, and grammar all rolled in together.

He looked back at the simple phrase, pointing at each character in sequence and sounding it out in his head.

“안녕하세요. Annyeonghaseyo. Good morning.” His book informed him.

_Ann – yeong – hass – eyy - ohhh. Ann-yung ass-eyo. An-youn-as-eyy-ohh. Fuck._

Thomas looked up from his beginner’s book – not a textbook for once, though learning a new language wasn’t exactly recreational – at the sound of loud cursing from the other bed.

“Newt, you okay?”

“It’s Alby’s birthday in February.”

“Newt it’s January fifth.”

“I know! But I need to think of what to get him,” Newt frowned. “I haven’t had a partner’s birthday so soon in a relationship before. Oh God, what’s appropriate? Something big or something small? What if I get it wrong and he’s hurt?”

Thomas looked to the ceiling for patience. It didn’t have any. Seemed this room was fresh out.

“Newt, you’re my friend and I love you, but you seriously need to calm down about this stuff. And I mean that in the nicest possible way.”

Newt frowned at him for a second, looking like he wanted to be annoyed and snap back. Then he raised his eyebrows curiously. “Hey, isn’t it Minho’s birthday soon, too?”

“Two weeks, yeah.”

“What are you getting him?”

Thomas scratched behind his ear and kept his eyes on his book. “Dunno yet.”

“No ideas?”

“One or two,” Thomas mumbled and turned the pages back to see the pronunciation guide again.

“Tommy.”

“Hm?”

“What’s going on with you?”

Thomas looked up and saw Newt was watching him with a concerned frown.

“I mean, you don’t have to say if it’s super personal, but like. You’ve been a bit distant. I thought it was just homesickness and I shouldn’t poke too much, but… I dunno. You’ve been hangin’ out all the time with Minho, and I’m really glad you had a good Christmas together, but like… I dunno.” Newt looked down at his lap and fiddled with his bracelets. “You seem odd. Like there’s sommat on your mind you don’t wanna say. To me, specifically. Like you’re avoidin’ me or something.”

Thomas marked his page and put the book aside. “Newt, I’m not? I didn’t realise it seemed like that. I’m not avoiding you, though.”

Newt flicked a glance up at him. “You sure?”

Thomas swallowed a little surge of annoyance. “Yeah.”

“So what’s going on?”

“Nothing, I dunno. Stressed about the new semester, I guess.”

“You can tell me, y’know. I don’t wanna push, but it seems like you’re keeping something down. You’ve helped me through a lot, let me help you too.” Newt gave a small smile.

Thomas fidgeted with his hands, rubbing absently at his cuticles and around the sides of his nails, which were sore and bitten-down. “It’s really nothing.”

Newt frowned at him. “Well. Okay. I’ll stop bothering you about it, if you want.”

Thomas didn’t reply as he was fighting the uncomfortable squirming of guilt in his stomach. It wasn’t Newt’s fault, the way he was acting, and the more mature part of Thomas’ brain knew he was being childish and insecure, but it was hard to want to bring it into the open.

Newt’s frown deepened but he didn’t say anything else, going back to his phone. They sat in strained silence for some time, both trying to occupy themselves with their pursuits. Thomas chewed the inside of his cheek as a headache started thumping behind his temples. He took up his phone.

> _To: Coach M_
> 
> _Im being an ass pls help_
> 
> _From: Coach M_
> 
> _Mm ok? Whats got your jimjams twisted_
> 
> _To: Coach M_
> 
> _Im being a child pls tell me to grow up and talk to newt properly_
> 
> _From: Coach M_
> 
> _Seems like u know what u need but ok_
> 
> _THOMAS. STOP BEING A PRICK AND TALK ABOUT YOUR GODDAMN FEELINGS. OR NO MORE RUNS W ME IN THE MORNING OR COUCH CUDDLES OR STAYING OVER_
> 
> _T A L K T O Y O U R F R I E N D_
> 
> _Ok?_

Thomas smiled at his screen.

> _To: Coach M_
> 
> _Thanks :) ur the best motivational friend_
> 
> _From: Coach M_
> 
> _Duh. But anytime x Hope it goes well_
> 
> _And get some sleep, its getting late_
> 
> _To: Coach M_
> 
> _Yes sir_
> 
> _From: Coach M_
> 
> _:p u ass_
> 
> _To: Coach M_
> 
> _You too tho, c u tomorrow._
> 
> _From: Coach M_
> 
> _Bright n early!! :D_

Thomas tossed his phone back on his bed. “Um. Newt?”

“Mmhm?” Newt replied coolly.

“I’m being a dick and I’m sorry,” Thomas said flatly, addressing the corner of Newt’s mattress instead of his face. “It’s not your fault.”

“Well, okay,” Newt said slowly. “So – what’s going on?”

Thomas chewed at his cheek some more. “I was mad that you got to see your family over Christmas and I didn’t,” he admitted eventually, shamefaced. “It was a stupid way to feel, and a stupid way to act because it’s not your fault at all. And I’m sorry.”

“Oh.”

“And especially ‘cause I’m mostly just mad at myself for being such a little shit about it. And that really, that’s not what it all was.” Thomas carried on doggedly. The skin around his thumb split under the digs of his nails and he balled his fists with a wince. “I had a really great time with Minho. And I feel guilty for enjoying it so much when I should’ve been with my family. So I was kinda taking it out on you.”

“Oh.” Newt said again.

“Yeah. I’m sorry, Newt.”

“You coulda just said, y’know.”

“I know.”

“Well. It’s okay.”

Thomas checked his expression; Newt was giving him a half-smile. “It’s okay, Tommy. Just – fuckin’ _say_ , alright?”

“Alright.”

“Good. What’re you reading?”

Thomas held up his book. “I, uh. I’m trying to learn.”

Newt gave him a very particular _look_ , one that was a couple parts understanding, a few more of exasperation and a little bit of amusement. “Mmkay. Good luck. And I’m sure he’d just help teach you, if you asked.”

Thomas waved a hand vaguely, rubbing at his nails until they stung again. “Yeah, well. I kinda – I kinda want it to be a surprise. For, uh. His birthday.”

Newt pinched the bridge of his nose after a moment. “Wow. _Wow_.”

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

Thomas chucked a pillow at him. Newt caught it deftly with his face, then threw it back with a laugh.

-x-

“How’d it go?” Minho asked as soon as Thomas let himself into the apartment.

“Hi to you too,” Thomas smiled and dumped his bag on the table. Minho pulled a face at him and fidgeted in his office chair, headphones down around his neck. “Yeah, it went really well. Filmed the whole thing.”

“Good time?”

“Yeah,” Thomas smiled and perched on the counter that separated the kitchen and lounge parts of the room, wedging himself in between the fruit bowl and the jam jar full of spare dollars. He absently fished out a couple more notes and added them to the jar, repayment for dinner ingredients the other night. “Yeah, it was fun. Pretty weird to go off a script, it’s not really something I’m used to. But Alby’s a real pro.”

“Right?” Minho grinned. “I’ve been tellin’ him for years, if YouTube ever starts to go down, he should seriously go into proper editing and directing and shit. He’d be amazing.”

Thomas smiled and rested his feet on Minho’s knees; the desk with his editing computer was just close enough. Minho cupped his hand over Thomas’ ankles without seeming to think about it, his hand warm through Thomas’ jeans. “It was pretty exhausting, though. We had to do a lot of takes with me being so inexperienced.”

Minho shrugged. “That’s how it goes. I’m glad you had a good time. And that you two’ve been hanging out more.”

Thomas leaned back on his hands on the counter and smiled at Minho. “Yeah, he’s cool. It’s been fun. I can see why Newt’s so mad about him, he’s amazing. So full of… light? Is that weird to say? He’s very nice to be around, anyway. And quite the strong, quiet type.”

“Don’t you dare,” Minho grinned and prodded at Thomas’ calf. “Homewrecker.”

“I would never,” Thomas grinned back and nudged Minho’s thigh with the side of his trainer. “But your friend is cool, I like him. Seal of approval.”

“About time, too,” Minho said, just a bit smugly. “So did you guys hang out or was it just the video?”

“We hung out a bit after,” Thomas said. “Got some drinks, talked about music. He gave me some CDs to borrow – actual CDs. Not mp3 files.”

“He’s a special guy,” Minho grinned. “He’s leant me cassettes before.”

“Outstanding,” Thomas said with a brief chuckle. “So what have you been up to while I’ve been expanding my horizons and getting salty about hypersexualisation?”

“Editing,” Minho shrugged and glanced back at his monitor, where the footage from his most recent recording session was paused in the middle of some very technical animation thingies that Thomas really didn’t understand at all. “Nothing too fancy, just working.”

“Looks pretty fancy to me. What are you doing there?”

Minho shrugged again. “Just shoving the camera around, focussing and zooming and stuff, moving between the game and my reactions. It’ll be funny when it’s done, I swear. Snap zooms and shit like that. And there’s some little art bits I’m sliding on and off screen as well, giving them little shakes and spins and stuff.”

Thomas looked between him and the screen for a good minute, then nudged his thigh. “Can you show me?”

“If you want? It’s not very interesting, though.” Minho said with genuine puzzlement. “Just lots of clicking.”

“Minho, d’you remember your reaction when I said doing well academically is just memorisation?”

“I believe the reaction was ‘that’s bullshit and you know it’,” Minho smiled.

Thomas smiled back gently. “Exactly. Now show me how you do the video magic.” Thomas eased off the counter, grabbed a chair and sat down beside him at the desk. He wiggled his fingers. “All the magic.”

Minho shook his head with a smile. “Alright, but I promise it’s dead boring. And if you call me Magic Mike I’ll just scream.”

Thomas snorted. “You could do a parody if you wanted, you’re stacked enough for it.”

Minho raised an eyebrow at him, arching high up into his hair. “Are you asking me to do a strip routine?”

Thomas laughed. “No, no, don’t get your hopes up.”

Minho gave an exaggerated sigh, rolling his eyes in apparent despair. “Damn, so close. One day. And it’ll blow your fucking socks off.”

“Uh huh, sure thing, stud,” Thomas laughed and pushed at his shoulder and _damn_ that was a fucking wall of muscle. “Show me the things.”

“Alright,” Minho shrugged, and started explaining what he was doing with the software presets to get the effect he wanted. But then that required an explanation about all the different terms and menus and options and how he navigated between them all, and what exactly he was doing when he was just using keyboard shortcuts without a second thought as they came so naturally to him. Thomas watched in quiet wonder as Minho manipulated the program inside and out to get exactly the effect he was searching for, effortlessly tabbing in and out of menus and presets and setting limits and opacity and movement arcs with a few deft clicks of his mouse and rapid taps to the keyboard. All while appearing completely unmoved by his own technical ability or the sheer amount of time and effort it must have taken to become so proficient.

“Did you take courses on this, or something?” Thomas asked quite some time later when Minho paused for a drink of water.

“Nah,” Minho said easily. “I mostly just mess around with stuff until it looks right, and then learn from that, I guess. It’s not exactly hard.”

“Minho, it’s amazing,” Thomas replied with a disbelieving shake of his head. “ _You’re_ amazing.”

“Oh, stop,” Minho muttered half-seriously, shaking his head right back. “It’s just clicking things. It’s not like learning how neurons work, or thinking happens, or memory functions, or stuff like that.”

“Who cares? These are skills you’ve obviously spent _years_ developing and perfecting, and you’re really fucking good at it,” Thomas insisted, leaning closer. “And it makes you happy, and all the hundreds of thousands of your subscribers, too. All those people find your work funny and relatable and enjoyable and entertaining, and that’s no small thing. You touch all these lives with your videos, and they have such an impact. And even if you ignore all that – you know _so many_ cool things. Like how to sync video, do audio effects, set up and record footage off loads of different platforms, editing stuff, minor animation, video processing, social media interlinking, and technical troubleshooting for all that… I can barely work a basic camera. You’re incredibly talented and clever, Minho. I don’t give a fuck if it’s not academic braininess, if textbooks and memorising isn’t your thing. _This_ is your thing, and it’s brilliant. You’re brilliant.”

“Yikes, Thomas,” Minho muttered after a long moment, his face a little flushed as he wound his headphone cable around his fingers over and over. “You gonna get down on one knee too, or is that for later?”

Thomas rolled his eyes so hard he got a pain behind his temples. “Quit being a baby and let me compliment you already.”

Minho smirked at that, then his expression melted into something much softer, more genuine. “Thanks, Thomas.”

“You’re welcome. Now come here,” Thomas smiled back, very much enjoying the pink tinge to Minho’s ears and cheeks. He leaned closer and settled his arms around Minho’s shoulders, holding him close. Minho laughed quietly but leaned into him, tucking his head into the crook of Thomas’ shoulder for a few moments. Thomas’ chest abruptly felt warm and full of fluff, and he combed gently through Minho’s hair. While holding and touching each other was almost strangely easy these days, Minho didn’t often let himself _be_ comforted and petted. Usually he was the one doing the comforting, and it was doing funny things to Thomas’ pulse and breathing to have Minho curling into him like this, so trusting and calm and happy. Minho’s arms draped around Thomas’ waist and Thomas could feel his breath on his neck. One of Minho’s hands skimmed lightly over the small of his back, tracing the slight valleys either side of Thomas’ spine.

Thomas found his eyes closing and didn’t try to stop it; instead he let his fingers curl against Minho’s scalp, the tufts of his hair laced between his fingers. Minho hummed a quiet note in his throat so Thomas moved his hand a little, brushing his fingertips over more skin and letting his fingers slide through Minho’s short but thick and wonderfully soft hair. He hummed again, very quietly, so Thomas didn’t stop. Slowly Minho leant more into him, tension easing out of his frame as he relaxed fully. His shoulders dropped and arms felt slack, and Thomas knew from the ticklish sweep of eyelashes against his neck that Minho had closed his eyes too.

Thomas’ other hand rested lightly on the top of Minho’s shoulder, and he could feel the steady, pleasant heat of his skin through the thin shirt. Radiating up, into Thomas’ palm resting flat against the gentle, perfect curve of muscle and bone and sinew. Thomas pressed just a little, feeling out the shape of the joint, and Minho hummed again. It was a soft, contented noise, and Thomas’ heart did a flip in his chest at the sound of it.

“M’gonna fall asleep on you,” Minho murmured eventually in a bleary, sleepy voice. Thomas wondered if that was how he sounded right from bed in the morning, before he had a chance to wake up properly.

“It would be fair payback for all the times I’ve slept on you,” Thomas replied quietly.

“Probably,” Minho sighed. “But then I’d get a crick in my neck. Another time?”

“Sure,” Thomas smiled, and stroked down the curve of his skull to release his hair in a long, slow caress. Minho uttered another tiny, vulnerable noise before they broke apart.

“Dude, c’mon,” Minho muttered. He looked even pinker in the face than before, which Thomas hadn’t thought was possible.

“What?” Thomas smiled back.

“The hair thing is so unfair.”

“You’re just embarrassed I know your weakness now,” Thomas said dryly.

“True,” Minho flashed him a bright grin and leaned back in his chair, looking soft and dishevelled and at ease. “You’ll use it against me somehow, I just know it.”

“Yep, I’ll get you to fall asleep on command. Out like a light. You uncovered my nefarious plot.”

They snickered together for a few minutes until Minho cleared his throat and jiggled the mouse so the screen woke up again. “Anyway. What was I saying? About this waveform…”

Thomas rested his chin in his hand and listened, engrossed. But not so fully occupied as to ignore the way Minho’s hair now stuck up in odd directions, and the tingling in his fingertips that came from knowing the exact texture of each of those sweet little cowlicks.

-x-

“Have a good day,” Thomas smiled mechanically as the last person in the queue wandered off with their coffee. He and Brenda exchanged a tired, relieved look and started cleaning up the haphazard mess of emptied packets, minor spills, stuff taken out of the fridge and accidentally left on the side, and the detritus of damp napkins, used stirrers and open sugar packets left thoughtfully on the counter by those most lovely of customers.

“Ugh,” Brenda sighed at length, once their workspace was neatened and clean again.

“Same,” Thomas muttered and washed his hands free of the sticky residue of dried milk, syrup overspill and coffee grounds.

“I can’t decide if it’s busy because everyone’s doing new resolutions to work harder, or because people just need fuel for forcing themselves to work when they don’t want to,” She mused.

“Hm. Could be both, I guess,” Thomas replied and leaned back against the counter with her. “How’s the new semester treating you?”

“Same as always,” She shrugged. “You forget I’m an old hand now.”

“True, a wise old second year,” Thomas nodded.

“Damn right. How about you? Got your midterm results yet?”

“Mmhmm.”

A pause.

“So? How’d you do?” Brenda asked and poked his arm.

Thomas grinned bashfully down at his feet. “A’s all round.”

“Holy shit, Thomas! Great going!” Brenda laughed and threw her hands in the air. “I’m so proud, fucking hell. Well done, really well done. You horrendous nerd.”

“Thanks,” Thomas shrugged and grinned back. “We’ll see if I can keep it up when all the classes are only gonna get harder from here.”

“Don’t be so down on yourself, Christ. Enjoy the moment, yeah?” Brenda said and ruffled his hair.

Thomas laughed with her and flattened his hair after all her efforts to make it look as ridiculous as possible. “Did you have midterms? I can’t remember if you said so or not.”

“Nah, my stuff’s all project-based. But I got an approximate grading on my current thing. Low B.” She grimaced, clearly not happy with it. “But at least I got a fuck-ton of good feedback, so I can use it to improve. That’s the plan, anyway.”

“It’s a good plan,” Thomas agreed and lightly squeezed her shoulder. “I have every faith you can get the grade higher, you perfectionist.”

She stuck her tongue out at him and he returned the favour. They traded stupid expressions back and forth until an incoming customer forced them to behave.

“Brenda! What have you done to corrupt this poor boy?” Jorge asked with a wide smile as he approached the till. “Such faces!”

Brenda laughed and started making his usual order. “Nothing, he just puts on his Nice Boy face whenever you’re around.”

“Hi, Jorge,” Thomas smiled. “Muffin? We got a new flavour this week. Cherry and almond.”

“You’re doing your job too well,” Jorge informed him. “I’ll take two, the next lecture is gonna be a killer.”

“ _I’m_ in your next lecture,” Brenda said tartly with a glance at the clock.

“What an amazing coincidence,” Jorge deadpanned. “Thomas, give me three.”

Thomas’ laugh echoed across the lobby almost as loudly as Brenda’s furious reply. Once Jorge had left, and he and Brenda had handed over to the next pair of baristas, they walked together in the direction of Brenda’s lecture. Thomas didn’t really have anywhere to be, and they chatted the time away happily.

“How was the party?” She asked as they walked.

“Hm? Oh, it was really fun,” Thomas replied and pulled out his phone to show her the pictures of Alby and Minho’s combined birthday party a few nights back, seeing as their birthdays were so close and Minho would be away with his family on his actual birthday. As per their request, the four of them had gone out for a proper restaurant meal, gotten a little bit tipsy, then hit an old-school arcade for most of the night. Thomas laughed as he described to her how Alby had wrecked them all on a DDR-style dance machine, how he and Minho had cleaned shop at table hockey, and how Newt had shown a hidden talent for racing games, apparently, and put them all to shame.

“You look so stupid,” She grinned at a photo of him and Minho, both a little drunk, and viciously defending their goal at the table hockey. Minho had his tongue stuck out with determination and hair going everywhere (courtesy of lots of hugging from Alby), while Thomas’ face was flushed splotchily and Newt, who’d taken the picture, had caught him in a truly odd expression where he was either about to laugh or yell something or maybe throw up, and Thomas couldn’t quite remember what had caused it. He assumed it was just the excitement of the game, but it was a weird photo to be sure. Definitely not going on his Instagram.

“It’s my curse, I always look shit in candids,” Thomas smiled and kept flicking.

“Did Minho like his present?”

“Oh, I bailed on that,” Thomas admitted. “I was gonna say it, do the whole birthday message thing, but like two minutes before I was gonna do it, I completely blanked on literally all of it. So I just said it in English and gave him the cookbooks.”

“Aw,” Brenda said. “Shame. Still, gives you more time to practice, right?”

Thomas smiled. “Yeah, I guess so. How was the study session?”

Brenda shot him a shy, almost sneaky smile and tucked her wispy hair behind her ears. “Good. Extremely productive. Very much.”

“Did you even open your books?”

“Nope,” Brenda said happily. “It was a good night though. We watched movies and baked cake, it was awesome. Sorry I kinda stole your girl.”

“She wasn’t my girl to start with,” Thomas smiled and shook his head. “I think it’s really cool that you’re having so much fun together. And I’ll just claim credit for helping you two actually hang out, yeah?”

“Yep, your oblivious ass gets all the credit,” Brenda rolled her eyes.

“So are you two, like – dating? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Brenda hummed thoughtfully and fiddled with her bag strap. “Not exactly? ‘Dating’ is way too romo for either of us, anyway. We have fun. And we’re not really labelling it.”

Thomas couldn’t help his grin. “I’m glad you’re having fun.”

“We cuddle a lot,” Brenda blurted, colouring a little with an adorable, eager, shining look to her, like a child with a secret just bursting to share. “S’pretty fucking awesome. Teresa’s _so_ pretty, oh my _God_. And she’s the absolute best to hold, she’s just so tall and soft, it’s like, how? How can one person be so good? It’s all warm and nice and sweet, and – yeah. It’s cool, we’re cool.” She beamed down at her shoes, looking so happy and excited Thomas wanted to pick her up and hug her.

“I’m really happy for you both,” he said instead, and squeezed her arm.

-x-

“I think the orange,” Harriet decided and rooted through her bag to find the right shade.

“Really?” Sonya said from the side, her face covered in gunk that was supposed to be setting, but she kept talking and smiling and making it crinkle.

“It’s bright and happy and makes me smile whenever I see it on my hands,” Harriet replied, and reached over to flick one of Sonya’s long, dangling braids. “What d’you reckon, Rachel? Orange sound good?”

“Yeah,” Rachel smiled shyly. “I think I’d really like that.”

“Don’t cave to her peer pressure,” Sonya said.

“I’m not,” Rachel replied and offered her hands up to Harriet. “I haven’t done my nails before, I wanna see how it looks.”

“It’ll look great with your skin tone,” Harriet smiled. “Bright colours always pop well against darker skin, trust me.”

Rachel smiled and watched as Harriet started rubbing moisturiser into her fingers and hands, smoothing over her skin with confident, firm strokes. Once that was done and her nails were prepared, Harriet started painting them with slow, careful swipes of the tiny brush, like distilled sunlight and mangoes. It was stupidly soothing, watching Harriet deftly paint her nails a vibrant, shimmering orange, her own hands light and sure with each delicate touch. Sonya watched from the couch and poked at her face mask, sighing impatiently every time her finger came away wet.

“It’ll never set if you keep doing that,” Rachel pointed out.

“I know,” Sonya huffed. “Hari, why did you convince me to slather this on myself.”

“You said it smelled good,” Harriet smiled as she worked. “You didn’t need much convincing.”

Sonya huffed again. “Rachel, can I do your hair?”

“Huh? Oh, sure. What are you gonna do with it?”

“Not sure yet. But it’s so lovely and long, _something_ has to be done.”

“Thank you,” Rachel smiled down at her lap. She was very proud of her hair. It was almost down to her elbows now, and she had no plans to cut it anytime soon. Sonya knelt behind her and started combing gently through the long tresses with her fingers, gathering and parting and smoothing as she thought. Rachel closed her eyes for a few minutes, hardly able to believe this was happening.

_No, no tears. No crying. Fucking hormones. No crying!_

“All done,” Harriet said some time later, and squeezed her wrists. Rachel opened her eyes and blinked away the wetness that thankfully didn’t develop into full tears. She looked down at her hands and couldn’t help the little gasp that escaped her.

Her hands looked… pretty. She normally wasn’t a fan of her big hands, square palms and blocky fingers. But with the coats of gleaming, bright colour somewhere between melon and fall leaves, candycorn and pumpkin… they looked delicate, and beautiful.

She wiggled her fingers, loving the way the colour sparkled as each nail caught the light. Sonya hummed in approval over her shoulder, and started weaving Rachel’s hair in a complicated series of braids that swept around her head and over her shoulder. Rachel just stared mutely at her hands until Sonya was done, and the other girl rested her hands gently on Rachel’s shoulders and jolted her out of her thoughts.

“Thank you,” Rachel managed, blinking rapidly and wiggling her fingers some more. “Both of you. It’s really… I just…”

“Every woman should have a super girly sleepover at some point in her life. Just sucks you didn’t get one until now, we gotta make up for lost time,” Sonya said and gently hugged her around the shoulders.

“Totally,” Harriet smiled and squeezed her wrist again. “And it’s a lot of fun for us, too.”

Rachel laughed and rubbed carefully at her eyes with the backs of her hands, not wanting to smudge Harriet’s work. “So what’s the next part?”

“Well, we could make friendship bracelets, tell fortunes, watch movies, talk about our crushes if we’re feeling like middle schoolers,” Harriet grinned with a glance at Sonya.

“Crushes are gross,” Sonya declared, as if she weren’t sappily head over heels for her girlfriend every second of every day. “I’m up for jewellery though.”

“Could I do your makeup?” Rachel asked hesitantly. “I’ve been practising contouring, and eyeliner a lot. I’m getting pretty good at it, I think.”

Harriet gasped and clapped her hands delightedly. “Do me, do me! Your makeup is always so _good_ , Rachel, I’m so envious. You always look like a movie star.”

Rachel blushed and stammered her thanks, feeling overwhelmed and dizzy from happiness. She fished out her makeup bag while Sonya changed the music they were listening to and got out her beads and threads.

-x-

“Valentines is such bullshit,” Teresa said while she supervised the popcorn in the microwave. “What movies did you bring?”

“All of the Ring movies, all of the Final Destinations, some Saw, and a couple of those Sharknado goofs,” Brenda replied and pulled the haul of DVDs out of her bag.

“Perfect,” Teresa grinned. “I got a load of sour candy for us, as well. Nothing chocolatey or pink in sight.”

“Perfect,” Brenda echoed back. “Mind if I get in my pyjamas?”

“Go for it,” Teresa smiled, and watched unashamedly as Brenda changed clothes right there in the kitchen, never shy about her body around Teresa. And Teresa very much liked looking at Brenda; she was short and curvy and compact, with beautiful golden skin and thick thighs to die for. Brenda grinned and blew her a mocking kiss as she changed into baggy gym shorts and a long, shapeless tee that acted like a nightdress on her, falling down to her knees. It was covered in old paint speckles and looked like there were more than a few old food stains nearly-cleaned out.

“Saucy enough?” She asked, and struck a pose.

“Bestill my heart,” Teresa teased. “You’re practically in lingerie, holy shit.” Teresa abandoned the microwave and wrapped her arms around Brenda’s waist, smiling into her hair.

“Hey, no handsy business,” Brenda grinned and rested her own hands firmly on Teresa’s butt. “I know I look absolutely _ravishing_ , but you gotta work up to that shit.”

“Duly noted,” Teresa said, and peppered her neck with tiny, fond kisses that had her giggling and squirming until the microwave dinged and they separated. They piled all the candy and popcorn together in a gigantic, sickening bowl and decamped to the darkened living room.

Teresa dressed down to her own comfy pyjamas and got out some blankets and cushions so they could sit on the floor back against the couch, while Brenda set one of the DVDs going. Then she joined Teresa on the floor and kissed her cheek.

“Happy Anti-Valentines, ‘Resa.”

“You too, Bren. Now down in front, it’s time for a goddamn horror show.”

Across town, Alby and Newt were having a much more romantic time. There were candles and soft music galore, and dishes soaking in the sink from the dinner they’d made together. Red-patterned cards bearing saccharine messages sat proudly on the table, and new presents and chocolates waited abandoned on the couch. There were even noises coming from the bedroom, though any intruder might be confused by what was happening if they walked in.

Sure, they were both in their underwear and in bed together. Sure, their lips were red with the aftermath of long kisses, and Newt’s hair was a static mess from the number of times Alby had run his hands through it. And of course their eyes were like shining stars, burning bright at the sight of each other. But a person might be understandably puzzled when they saw the towels laid out on the bed, with Alby lying down on his stomach while Newt trailed paint-sticky hands over the broad expanse of his back.

“Mmmm,” Alby sighed contentedly, looking in the mirror they’d set up so he could see Newt while he painted.

Newt caught his eyes in the reflection and smiled softly as he daubed more paint onto Alby’s skin – paint intended for such a purpose, of course, not wall paint – to add to the mural he was making.

Buttercup shades and sky blues swirled riotously over the gorgeous, warm brown of Alby’s back, blending into jades and saffron and fuschia in an explosion that was just as much fun to make as it was to see. Newt smiled happily and worked his fingers over Alby’s back, from up at the swell of his shoulders, down the planes of his ribs and sides, to the knobs of his spine and dips just above his hipbones, giving way to the softer flesh just above his underwear’s waistline.

“Where’re you going, Newt?” Alby grinned back over his shoulder.

Newt laughed and grabbed his ass in both hands, leaving rainbow handprints on his white boxers as Alby let out a surprised bark of laughter, his whole body shaking. “ _Newt!_ ”

“You can wear ‘em to Pride next year,” Newt said with mock-innocence.

“Yeah, ‘cause I’m definitely going just in my boxers and a feather boa. Very me.”

“You should,” Newt insisted and squeezed more crimson paint onto his fingers. “You’re beautiful.”

“Pshh,” Alby muttered.

“You _are_ , and I won’t have you sayin’ otherwise.” Newt said firmly, and started swirling the paint over Alby’s shoulders and down his arms. “Just look at all this.”

Newt gestured vaguely to the broad expanse of his back, laid out before him in all its glory. His eyes tracked down from the smooth curve of his head and neck, down the beautiful planes of his back, the happy bubble of his butt, and his strong thighs and calves. He wasn’t a gym nut like Minho or, increasingly, Thomas, but he was beautiful and strong and wonderful, and Newt felt overfull with the knowledge Alby liked him just as much. He sighed quietly and massaged into Alby’s shoulders, mixing with the vibrant yellows to make a soft, warm orange like sunset. Alby was so warm and firm under his touch, so trusting and contented and loving to let Newt have free reign to touch and admire… Newt was quietly astounded he’d never given much thought to sensual contact like this before, now the possibility of a more sexual touch was firmly removed from the equation. This was bliss. He could happily watch and paint for days, and never get bored with the gorgeous art of his boyfriend.

Alby had been watching his expression in the mirror and smiled into the pillow of his forearms, feeling absolutely adored and dumbfounded with it. Newt’s hands pressed in long, firm circling motions and his hair fell forward over his shoulders as he worked. Alby wanted to kiss him so much his mouth _ached_ from the lack of him.

“Newt,” he said softly once Newt had covered his back and arms in as much paint as possible. “Can I get up?”

Newt caught his eyes and smiled, cheeks reddening from the sentiment he read there. “Can I take a picture first? I want you to see this before it all comes off.”

Alby made a noise of assent and held still while Newt wiped off his hands on the towels and documented his artwork, a hand resting almost possessively on Alby’s hip as he snapped each photo. Then he tossed his phone back on the bed and stroked down the side of Alby’s ribs. “Okay, you can get up now.”

Alby pushed himself up and turned to sit facing Newt, not missing the openly admiring look Newt was giving him as he watched Alby move so highly decorated, the colours shifting and rippling over his body in motion. Alby cupped his cheek and kissed him slowly, intensely, each press of his lips and touch of his tongue a love letter in itself, until a slow heat filled them both and their hands were shaking from the need to touch and hold and never let go.

Newt sighed out his breath once Alby pulled away, his eyes drooping almost shut and a soft, vulnerable look to his face. His lips looked cherry-stained and there was a rosy flush over his chest and up to his cheeks.

“Alright?” Alby murmured against his cheek, his hand sliding up to tangle in Newt’s beautiful hair.

“Peachy,” Newt whispered back and leant their foreheads together, taking deep breaths. Alby closed his eyes and breathed with him for a few minutes, basking in the heat of his body and warmth of his affection. He could feel the paint drying on his back and marvelled to himself that this was real, they were here and together and so in love it felt dreamlike, as if it were a particularly vivid dream they were sharing.

_Then I don’t want to wake up_ , Alby thought, and was immediately embarrassed by himself. He noted the sentiment for later though, to see if saying it would make Newt feel as gooey and silly as he did.

Newt pressed a kiss to Alby’s temple and he opened his eyes. Newt’s eyes were the light that came off the ocean on a summer’s day, bright and glimmering in the flickering candle light. Alby wanted to kiss him until they couldn’t breathe or speak or think, and never stop. But not just yet. He wanted to smother the colours of his love all over Newt’s skin; if not indelibly, then just paint would do for now.

“Can I paint you too?” Alby asked.

Newt smiled, then bit his lip for a moment. “Mmhmm. I’ll just take off my leg, first.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to, if you wouldn’t be comfortable…” Alby hedged.

Newt rubbed his palm lightly over Alby’s chest. “I know. I’m never entirely comfortable with people seeing my leg, but. I trust you. And I want to try.”

Struck speechless, Alby nuzzled into his cheek and down his neck, kissing his soft skin and trying to think of something to say to match the bravery and trust Newt was showing him. They’d slept in the same bed quite a few times now, and of course Alby had kept his word and respected Newt’s need for privacy, never stared when he was getting ready, never touched that particular leg below the hip. For Newt to want to take off his prosthetic and lay down for Alby to see and admire without restriction… Alby swallowed the lump that came to his throat.

Newt kissed his brow and turned a little to start unwrapping the stretchy cloths covering the join between his flesh and the moulded cup of the top of his prosthetic, unwinding the fastenings and slipping down the sock-like covering. He paused for a second as he took hold of it, and Alby gently combed his hair back behind his ear to settle on the nape of his neck, bearing silent witness.

Newt cleared his throat and detached the prosthetic fully, leaning it against the side of the bed and staring down at the stump. Alby looked with him, taking in the abrupt end to his limb and the old scars, surgical wounds long since closed and healed over in a smooth cap. It didn’t repulse or shock him in the least. If anything, it made him hurt a little to think of a younger Newt, so desperate and sad and alone.

“Do you want to lay down?” Alby said calmly.

“Mmhmm.”

Alby eased him down to lay on his back, and laid on his side next to Newt who watched him with wide, slightly scared eyes. Alby met his eyes, then took a long, slow look down Newt’s body, head to toes. Then he met Newt’s eyes again, rested a hand over Newt’s heart, and smiled.

“Beautiful.”

Newt’s eyes clouded with unshed tears and he clutched at Alby’s hand, his fingers trembling a little. Alby bent to kiss all over wherever he could reach, down Newt’s neck and over his chest, to his fingertips and stomach and hipbones, the tops of his thighs. Newt took deep, shaky breaths and held on tightly to Alby’s hand. When Alby was done with his little journey over Newt’s skin, he shuffled up so they were face to face again. Newt wiped quickly under his eyes and smiled up at him.

“How are you feeling?” Alby asked.

“Emotional,” Newt said with a quirk of his lips. “But in a good way. I promise.”

Alby kissed his nose and squeezed his hand. “Can I paint you? I won’t go near your leg if you’d rather that.”

Newt reached up with his free hand to cup Alby’s cheek and gave a stronger smile. “You’re such a sweetheart. I think – I think I’d like it if you went near my thigh. Maybe not the actual stump, but. You can go in that direction, if you want.”

“I think I might want,” Alby smiled back tenderly, and reached over him to grab the paints. He propped himself up on one elbow beside Newt and started spreading paint over him. He started at Newt’s chest, swirling his thumb in circular motions to make flower patterns, like concentric petals. Newt rested his forehead against Alby’s chest and watched as Alby painted him a garden in pastels – delicate lilacs, rosebud pinks, hesitant new-shoot greens and timid reds blooming over his skin like sunlight in the spring. Alby sighed contentedly, loving the smooth, soft texture of Newt’s skin and the pale tones of it at odds with the heat under his fingertips and the fast, almost nervous beat of his heart.

Iridescent butterflies and tiny birds peeked out from among the flowers and vines, and a flock of them winged over Newt’s hip and settled on the roses blushing there, climbing up the trellis of his ribs and intertwining sweetly with the honeysuckle draping down from his arms.

Alby kissed Newt’s cheek and shifted again so he could reach Newt’s legs. On his thighs a rippling pond trickled forth, half-concealing schools of fish and little platoons of frogs and tiny birds around the edge limned with reeds and pale flower blossoms. Once he was done, Alby rested his hand around the curve of Newt’s thigh, just above his knee that marked the end of his leg.

“Okay?”

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” Newt said thickly, staring at the magnificent artwork so lovingly created on his skin.

“I try my best,” Alby smiled. “Happy Valentines, honey.”

“You. Are _too much,_ ” Newt beamed, and leaned up to kiss him firmly.

-x-

Thomas rocked back on his chair and stretched his arms above his head, rotated his neck with a pained groan. He tucked his hands into the oversized pockets of his hoodie and read back over the summary page of his textbook, baring his teeth in grim satisfaction that it was finally making sense. Imagining thunderous applause, he turned to a new chapter and took a victorious sip of his coffee dregs, now cold and more than a little disgusting. One half page done, only sixty more in the chapter. Hell yeah, hell yeah. Hell…. Yeah. Hell. So much hell.

He stared down at his textbook in disgust and shoved it away from himself. _Back, foul beast._

“Minho, I’m gonna have a shower,” he called, before remembering Minho had nipped out for groceries, and he was alone in Minho’s flat. “Well that’s just embarrassing.” He muttered. He pulled out his phone, thinking he should check in with Newt seeing as he hadn’t turned up at their dorm last night.

> _To: Newto_
> 
> _Hey dude, how was the super romance night? u still alive?_
> 
> _From: Newto_
> 
> _TOMMY !!!!!! SO GOOD OMG_
> 
> _To: Newto_
> 
> _Good :) do i want details?_
> 
> _From: Newto_
> 
> _Nothing nsfw, dw. We cuddled and painted each other. Super romantic, had such a gr8 time. Hbu?_
> 
> _To: Newto_
> 
> _Aww :) not much, caught up on my non-textbook reading_
> 
> _From: Newto_
> 
> _U spent val night alone??? Oh tommy_
> 
> _To: Newto_
> 
> _what? i had a nice time_
> 
> _From: Newto_
> 
> _U r a mess, tommy. g2g, albys makin waffles :D_

Thomas smiled and put his phone away before ducking into the bathroom, hoping the hot water would clear his head and make him remember why the fuck he’d taken this course again. He’d just stepped out and was towelling himself off when there was a rapid series of knocks at the door.

Thomas jumped at the sudden noise, then rolled his eyes. That was Minho’s knock, he must have forgotten his keys. What kind of asshole would knock on his own door when there was a perfectly functional doorbell just there? Minho. On several occasions. Thomas yanked on some underwear and darted out to get the door, expecting Minho to be overburdened with bags and needing help.

But.

It was not Minho at the door.

Instead, there were two middle-aged Korean ladies on the landing. Naturally they both looked amazingly put-together. The taller one on the left looked like one of those Summer Of ’69 flower children who’d aged incredibly gracefully; she was all flowing clothes and flowery jewellery and sparkly sandals. She was even wearing dried flowers woven through her long, dark hair. The shorter lady on the right looked like she was either in a tough biker gang or one hell of an intimidating businesswoman, all matte black and sharp, crisp, starchy shirt and jeans, with big leather boots and a razor-sharp haircut. Either way she looked like she could beat Thomas up without breaking a sweat, and then snap some bubblegum as he lay in the gutter.

They looked at him in surprise, and he looked right back.

At Minho’s moms.

In only his underwear.

And the silence stretched, and stretched, and _stretched._

At length, Hippie Mom – he recognised them from the pictures of Seollal Minho had shown him a few days ago – broke the tense moment with a bright smile to her wife. “It’s February 15th, isn’t it?” Her voice was high and cheery, with a strong California tang like the seabreeze.

“Oh dear,” Tough Mom replied with a smile, her voice much softer. “We should have called ahead.”

Some kind of strangled noise broke free from Thomas’ throat and he felt dizzy waves wash over him as his body tried to decide whether he should go bright red or deathly pale from embarrassment.

“You must be Thomas?” Hippie Mom said with a kind, far too knowing smile.

“I – we’re not – it’s not like – I know it looks…” Thomas stammered, screaming in his own head.

Tough Mom smirked and Thomas just wanted to die.

“It’s quite alright dear,” Hippie Mom smiled. “Is Minho decent? Should we come back later?”

_Now would be a great moment to discover superpowers regarding rewinding time_ , Thomas thought in a panic, but no such powers manifested.

“Uhh, no. I mean, he’s not here?” Thomas managed, somehow. “He’s just – out. I was in the shower.”

Tough Mom raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. “Sure.”

Hippie Mom laughed and shook her head at her wife. “Don’t tease the poor boy!”

The internal screaming intensified. _Oh my God his mums think we’re fucking they think we’re fucking they think we’re fucking oh my God someone kill me now, please, please…_

Thomas covered his face for a moment and realised he was _still_ just standing in his underwear while they were having this conversation in the hallway for all the neighbours to enjoy. He took a deep breath and managed to get some kind of control over his brain.

“Um. Well that was a terrible way to say hello,” he said weakly. “Hi. I’m gonna get dressed. Um, come in, I’m sure he’ll be back soon.” He awkwardly gestured at the door and stepped back, retreating rapidly and darting into the spare bedroom to cover himself as much as possible, pretending not to hear them muffling laughter in the other room. Luckily he’d rescued his phone.

> _To: Coach M_
> 
> _OH MY GOD GET BACK HERE UR MOMS ARE HERE + I OPENED THE DOOR NEALRY NAKED I WANT TO DIE_
> 
> _From: Coach M_
> 
> _LMAO chill dude, ill b back in 10. just chat until i get back, theyre nice i promise_

Thomas felt wounded at the distinct lack of sympathy and scowled as he pulled on a long-sleeve shirt and some jeans, wanting to be as covered-up as humanly possible after the incident at the door. He took a few minutes to emotionally prepare himself and check that yes, he was _definitely_ dressed this time before joining them in the living room.

“There you are, dear,” Hippie Mom smiled, eyes shining as she obviously tried not to laugh at him any further. “That’s a lovely shirt.”

 “Um. Thanks. Uh, sorry about the, uh. Door. Thing.” He stumbled over his tongue. “I texted Minho, he said he’ll be back in ten minutes. Would you like some tea, or coffee?”

God, it was just habit to offer drinks. It wasn’t even his house. But his own mum’s manners would not be abandoned at a time like this.

“Yes, please,” Tough Mom said. “Minho sometimes has green tea in the cupboard?”

“I’ll have a look,” Thomas said, and darted into the kitchen as they settled on Minho’s couch. He managed to calm down marginally by the time he’d found the green tea and boiled the kettle. He made himself some strong, fortifying black tea and perched on one of the dinner chairs to keep company.

“감사합니다,” Tough Mom said as she sipped her tea, then frowned. “Oh. I said thank you.”

Thomas realised with a little flush of pride that he’d understood her without needing the translation. He swallowed and replied haltingly, “천만에요.”

They stared at him in surprise and he started to sweat. “Sorry, did I say it wrong? I’ve been practising, but…”

“It’s alright,” Hippie Mom smiled. “Calm down, good Lord. We were just surprised. Has Minho been teaching you?”

“Little bits,” Thomas nodded and took a gulp of his own tea. Hippie Mom asked him questions about his classes, and his family, and his interests. He replied as easily as he could while still reeling from the whole situation. He noticed that Hippie Mom chatted a lot more than Tough Mom, who seemed to be listening but content to let her wife do most of the talking.

“This is nice,” Hippie Mom said after a few minutes with a kind smile. “We don’t normally get to meet Minho’s boyfriends or girlfriends without him.”

Thomas felt a flush working up his face. “It’s really not like that,” he said weakly.

She raised her eyebrows but smiled. “Okay, dearie. So, tell me more about your course, it sounds very interesting.”

She obviously didn’t believe him but Thomas struggled on heroically with the conversation, appreciating that she was willing to let it drop for now. After what felt like much longer than ten minutes, Thomas turned around at the sound of keys in the door.

_Oh thank fuck._

“Hi Mom! 안녕, 엄마!” Minho called cheerily as he closed the door behind himself, arms laden down with bags. “Thomas, did you really open the door naked?”

“In my underwear,” Thomas clarified. “But basically.”

“What the hell, man?” Minho grinned over his mom’s shoulder as the three of them exchanged tight hugs and cheek kisses.

“I thought it was you!” Thomas protested, cheeks hot. “And I’d just got out the shower!”

Minho laughed and made to squeeze his shoulder but Thomas dodged back. “Nuh uh, no way. Do not fucking touch me right now, I’m so embarrassed.”

Minho laughed harder. “You’re fucking priceless, dude. Oh my God.”

“We should have called ahead, darling, but we quite forgot about the date,” Hippie Mom said fondly, and neatened his shirt. “But you left a load of clothes at the house last week, and we were heading into town anyway. I hope you don’t mind if we crash your date.”

“Date?” Minho asked, puzzled.

“You deserve each other, clearly,” Tough Mom said dryly, and Thomas was gratified to see the flush in Minho’s face too as he realised what they thought. He laughed and started talking in rapid-fire Korean, gesturing vaguely.

Tough Mom replied in kind, a knowing smile on her face. Minho groaned and shook his head emphatically. His moms continued to look smug and unconvinced. Minho sighed and rolled his eyes, clearly giving up on arguing. He settled down on the couch with his moms to chat in a musical blend of Korean and English and Thomas started tidying his books away. Minho cut himself off mid-sentence and looked over at Thomas.

“Dude? What?”

“I just thought I’d give you guys some time,” Thomas shrugged, arms full of textbooks and pens. “I can go to the library, it’s fine.”

“No way,” Minho grinned and pointed at the spare chair. “You got like, a billion A’s or something, right? Sit your ass down and chill for once.”

“If you insist,” Thomas smiled.

“I do insist,” Minho laughed. “At least until you finish your tea.”

“Okay, okay,” Thomas dropped his textbooks back on the table and settled in his seat. “Behold. Me. Chilling.”

“Good,” Minho beamed, then saw the twin looks his moms were giving them both. “Oh, don’t look at me like that!”

It was a lot easier to laugh about being completely humiliated, Thomas considered, when there was someone else there too.

* * *

 

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come talk to me!


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